#and the line of him wanting to tell his wife about the bell tower when he’s reunited with her… STOP THIS HURTS… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lemonade-coolattas · 3 years

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here comes the bride

bat boys/nessian oneshot. modern au. literally just pure fluff. it’s sickening.

a/n: technically a follow up to the best flower bros oneshot, so it might be helpful to read that, but totally not necessary!

wordcount: ~2.8k

tw: language

Cassian is a man living on the edge.

He wishes he could say that it’s only because he’s marrying the love of his life today and he needs the day to go off without a hitch, but it has more to do with the permanent smirks gracing his brothers’—his best mens’—faces. At this point, he’s not sure if Rhysand is actually planning something to get back at him for the little stunt he had pulled at his brother’s wedding, or if the whole day the bastard has been toying with him—making Cassian think he’s planning something, the psychological warfare the sweetest revenge in itself, the anticipation for whatever his brothers are plotting making Cassian’s brain go haywire. Every time Rhys so much as breathes too loudly, Cassian flinches, not even sure what to expect, just knowing it can’t be good.

It had come to a head in the room of the farmhouse where they had been getting ready, Helion shoving a drink in Cassian’s hand that was just good enough to distract him from his two brothers slipping out of the room and returning a few minutes later with a smugness on their faces that had every warning bell in Cassian’s brain clanging. He had immediately shooed out the rest of the party to square off against his two brothers, arms crossed across his chest.

Az had rolled his eyes at the posturing, while Rhys innocently cocked his head and clapped a hand on his shoulder, telling him to relax, with that damning twinkle in his eye that caused him to tense even more.

He had never regretted the prank he had pulled at Rhys’s wedding more than that moment.

He wanted to grab them by the shoulders and scream that it wasn’t just their balls on the line if something went wrong, but his own, too. He loved the hell out of his future wife, but Nesta could still scare the shit out of him while somehow turning him on at the same time, which just made her all the more terrifying.

He knows, really, that the anxiety coursing through his veins doesn’t just have to do with getting pranked, knows that it’s the wedding itself that’s causing his heart to crawl into his throat, but he’d much rather dwell on his brothers’ potential shenanigans than be turned into a sniveling, fidgeting mess.

Not that he’s nervous about marrying Nesta. Gods, that had been the easiest decision of his life.

But old habits die hard, and sometimes old fears rear their ugly heads, making Cassian doubt he’ll ever be good enough for her, ever worth it—

So it’s easier to focus on his pain-in-the-ass brothers, instead.

But now, minutes before the ceremony, he thinks he might finally be in the clear. At least until the reception.

He had made Rhys and Az swear not to pull anything during the ceremony on Nesta’s behalf, who had demanded no pranks to potentially ruin photos of the ceremony.

When they agreed all too easily, Cassian, knowing his brother’s words were worth shit, had gone to Nesta and made her threaten them. And, for extra measure, he had asked (begged) Feyre for a favor, and she had sighed, but told Rhys that she wouldn’t have sex with him for a week if he pulled any funny business while Cassian and Nesta got married.

So the ceremony, beginning in fifteen minutes, after the private “first-look” photos, is off limits.

Meaning he’s safe.

For now.

And since he’s safe, the anxiety that clutches his chest like a vise morphs into a different type of anticipation, excitement and nerves thrumming through his body like a live wire.

Because Nesta is about to be his wife.

Azriel stands beside him where he faces the rolling gardens that stretch from the porch to the edge of the property line of the venue they had rented for the wedding and reception. The aisle and altar stand in a shaded grove on the other side of the property, beyond the towering farmhouse from which Nesta will emerge.

When she had suggested doing a first-look photo shoot, revealing her in her dress to just him and a photographer to capture the moment without any prying eyes, he hadn’t hesitated to agree.

I don’t need you bawling like a baby as I walk down the aisle, she had teased. Which he definitely would be. He started choking up during the rehearsal dinner last night, and she was only in a pale gray gown that fell to her knees. She had kept her wedding dress tightly locked away, so he has no idea what she’ll look like, but he’ll be a blubbering mess the first time he sees her regardless. Because no matter the dress, it’ll be her. His Nesta. His wife. And that’s what matters, all that matters.

Cassian feels tears begin to prick his eyes and wipes at them before they can fall and Az can tease him. He feels his brother’s burning gaze on him anyway, but luckily, the other man only murmurs that the photographer is here, meaning Nesta should be emerging any second. Rhys, unable to go a few hours without trailing after his wife—the sap—had gone to visit Feyre under the guise of retrieving Nesta and bringing her to the porch of the farmhouse where Cassian waits.

“This is really happening, huh?” he mutters to his brother, drumming his fingers on his thighs, fidgeting with his cufflinks, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Az places a hand between his shoulder blades to steady him, and Cassian tries to take a deep breath.

“I’m happy for you, brother,” Azriel murmurs, then tosses a glance over his shoulder, his dark eyes brightening with something a lot like glee. The wooden slats creak under the weight of someone standing behind him, on the other end of the porch, and Cassian isn’t all that surprised to find his hands shaking already.

Azriel turns back to him and fucking beams. “She’s here.” With one last squeeze of his shoulder, he backs away, and Cassian strains his ears, hearing Az pause where Nesta must be waiting. “I’m happy for you, too.” There’s a teasing note in his voice, and then more creaking as he pads down the wooden steps of the porch to stand in the garden, content to watch from a distance with Rhys, leaving him and his future wife alone on the porch. The faint clicking of the photographer’s camera coming from somewhere around the corner is nearly muffled by the roaring in his ears.

Nesta shifts behind him, closing the distance until he can feel the heat of her at his back, and he releases a shaky exhale.

A hand squeezes his ass, and he jumps a little before huffing out a breathy laugh. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. “We have company.”

Instead of responding, a warm hand falls on his shoulder and squeezes, and he guesses that’s his invitation to finally turn around.

He takes a deep breath, tears already pricking the corner of his eyes, then turns.

And stumbles back a step, bumping into the wall of the house, speechless.

Because, in front of him stands not his fiancée, not Nesta, but Rhys, his brother wearing a white, sleeveless gown that’s too tight across his broad shoulders and flares out to a tutu that hits about mid-thigh. A flower crown weaves through his inky black hair, a veil fluttering in the breeze behind him.

Cassian can only stare as his brother holds his arms in front of him, and says, in a high falsetto voice, “Honey, I’m here!”

He blinks once. Twice.

And then Cassian doubles over and—loses it.

He falls further back against the wall, one arm splayed to keep him semi-upright, gut-wrenching laughs being pulled out of him, slapping at his chest. When he manages to crack open his eyes, seeing Rhys with his arms still outstretched, a false pout on his lips, his knees nearly come out from underneath him with the force of his guffaws.

“Sweetheart.” Rhys stomps his foot, his skirts flouncing at the motion, still using that ridiculously high voice, and Cassian thinks he might die of laughter, really. “It isn’t very polite of you, laughing at your fiancée like this.”

Cassian finally manages to straighten, catching a glimpse of Azriel over Rhys’s shoulder, his other brother’s shoulders shaking with restrained hoots of laughter, a phone in hand as he records the whole thing. Grin stretching so wide it hurts his cheeks, Cassian eyes Rhys up and down, taking in the whole get-up. It’s nothing more than a Halloween costume, really, but it’s about three sizes too small and nearly busting at the seams. He had even smeared some red lipstick across his lips. Still, his brother is rocking the ensemble, and the sight is almost enough to make Cassian lose it again.

Almost.

And Rhys must see the gleam in his eyes, because his own widen for a beat in panic, before he schools his face back into the pouting, if slightly more wary, mask.

“My apologies, sweetheart. I’d love to make it up to you.”

And before Rhys can even think to move, Cassian darts forward and pulls Rhys up and into his arms, cradling him bridal-style, no easy feat considering his brother is his height and nearly as broad and squirming.

The facade drops like a hat. “Cassian, as your boss, I’m demanding you to put me down this instant, or I swear to the Mother—”

“Now, now, is that any way to talk to your future husband?” Cassian tightens his grip as Rhys continues to buck around, trying to get free, and Cassian is honestly surprised Azriel hasn’t dropped the phone yet considering how hard he’s howling. Cassian leans forward, puckering his lips, and—

“How romantic. Should I let the officiant know that there seems to be a change of plans?”

Cassian drops Rhys, the other man barely getting his legs down in time to catch him and grunting at the impact, and whirls to the sound of her voice.

“Babe, it’s not what it looks like.”

Nesta stands beside Azriel—who’s still grinning like a madman—her hands propped on her hips and an eyebrow raised. “Oh really,” she purrs. “Because it looks like my fiancé and brother-in-law are about to elope.” There’s a teasing glint in her eye as she and Azriel climb the stairs to stand across from them on the porch. “Whatever will I do with all the negligees I have packed for our honeymoon?”

It’s then Cassian takes her in.

She’s not yet in her wedding dress, but her makeup is striking, her hair is done in a lose crown braid, soft tendrils loose and curling to frame her face. And she’s wearing a slip of a white robe with her initials monogrammed over her heart, the silk doing nothing to hide her curves, and—

Gods, the breath is punched right out of his lungs.

He is definitely going to cry when she walks down the aisle, whether he’s seen her in the dress beforehand or not.

Hell, he’s about to cry now.

With a clap of his hand on Cassian’s shoulder, Rhys brushes past him to stand on Nesta’s other side. He slings a casual arm over his shoulder.

And Nesta doesn’t shake him off in disgust.

If anything, her grin widens at Cassian’s slack jaw, and she cocks her head to the side, raising her other eyebrow. “Yes, dear?”

Cassian’s pretty sure he’s died.

“You… you two planned this? Together?”

“I planned it,” Nesta retorts, and Rhys shrugs in assent. Azriel nods. “They were only too willing to play a part.”

Cassian still can’t wrap his mind around them working together.

He pointed between Rhys and Nesta. “You’re telling me you two actually agreed on something?”

“In this particular instance, our interests were aligned.”

Rhys nods again. “Payback’s a bitch, brother.”

Nesta pulls out from under Rhys’s arm, and finally scans him head to toe. Rhys crosses his arms across his chest, challenge in his eyes. A smirk slashes across her face, and Cassian knows in his soul that their truce is over. “And to think Feyre said you couldn’t pull it off.”

Rhys’s jaw drops, and he spins around, like he’s going to find his very pregnant wife squatting behind a bush. “She did not.”

Nesta wiggles her eyebrows in Cassian’s direction behind his back, and he chuckles, closing the distance between them so he can reach out and snatch her wrist, pulling her close.

“Gods, you’re sexy when you’re scheming.”

“Even when it’s at your expense?”

He winks. “Especially when it’s at my expense.”

Her eyes practically glow. “Good.”

He’s just bending to close the distance between their lips when he’s suddenly being yanked back by the collar of his tux.

“None of that. I did not just spend an hour on her makeup for you to ruin it.”

He spins to find Elain behind him, chiffon skirts fluttering and camera dangling from her hand and fire in her eyes. “Cauldron, woman, where did you even come from?”

She jerks her head to the side, and then Feyre emerges not from the bushes but from around the other corner of the house, waddling a little, one hand on her rounded stomach, just visible under the flowing skirts of her dress. She stops dead in her tracks and claps the other hand over her mouth at the sight of her husband, who has rushed forward to greet her, his own skirts trailing behind him. “Darling.” He plants a kiss on her cheek, then bends further to plant one on her stomach. “Aren’t I stunning?”

Feyre manages to remove her hand from her mouth, keeping a straight face through whatever iron strength she possesses. “Absolutely radiant, my love. I think you should wear this when we renew our vows.”

Nesta rolls her eyes, even as the corner of her lips tug upward.

Feyre looks at Rhys, then to Cassian, then back to Rhys, mischievous grin crossing her face. “You got him good, didn’t you?” She raises her hand for a high-five, and Rhys obliges. Azriel groans.

“Alright, enough of that,” Elain tuts. “We’re running behind schedule, and we need to get someone into her dress and,” a glance at Rhys, who’s made his way back up onto the porch with his wife on his arm, “someone else out of his.”

Cassian shakes his head, meeting his fiancée’s eyes. “So was all that bullshit about not interrupting the ceremony just a way to keep my attention elsewhere? Get me so worried about that, that I’d let my guard down for this?”

Nesta’s gaze darkens even as a smile pulls at her lips, and she turns to face his two brothers, who go rigid under her glare, her voice deadly soft. “Oh no, that threat was very real. If you two idiots even think of pulling something during the ceremony, I will cut off your favorite body part and enjoy every second of it.

Rhys has the good sense to look down at Feyre, who nods gravely. Cassian swears Azriel swallows.

Before Cassian can pull her back to him and try his hardest to ruin Elain’s hard work, the other two Archeron sisters are tugging the bride off the steps and back around the corner to the bridal suite within the farmhouse.

“Wait,” Cassian calls. “I thought the point of this was so I don’t ruin any ceremony photos with my ‘blubbering’ when I see your dress?”

Nesta turns slightly to throw a wink at him, the shoulder of the robe slipping down to reveal bare skin, and damn if his pants don’t start to feel a little tight in the crotch. “Fuck the photos. All I want is to marry you.”

And then she disappears around the corner, leaving the three brothers alone on the porch again.

He expects the nerves to rush back in now that she’s gone, the realization that he’s about to get married to scare him shitless, but—

Nothing.

All that anxiety—gone.

And as Rhys—the faux diamonds on the bodice sparkling in the afternoon light, steps to Cassian’s side—Cassian realizes that’s the gift that his brothers decided to give him, not really a prank at all.

Paying back the favor, indeed.

This time when he lunges to pull his brother into a hug, Rhys doesn’t resist, and pats him on the back, Azriel watching with a fond expression.

Cassian takes their closeness as an opportunity to whisper low in Rhys’s ear. “You think Az knows that when he finally gets hitched, we’re coming for him next?”

He can feel Rhys’s laugh, and even though they’re out of hearing distance from their other brother, Azriel raises his eyebrows.

Cassian can feel Rhys’s smirk. “Oh, I think he’s counting on it.”

a/n: this was alternatively titled Rhys’s Revenge. like the the best flower bros, this was loosely based off a tiktok (found here), bc i am nothing if not weak for wedding shenanigan tiktoks.

general acotar tag list (if i’m missing you or you would like to be tagged/taken off, please let me know!!):

@live-the-fangirl-life

@themoonthestarsthesuriel

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meltwonu · 4 years

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| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ sea castles ✦

this chapter pairing; yandere!woozi x reader, subtle jeonghan x reader

genre&warnings; merman!au, yandere!woozi, character death, dom!woozi/possessive!woozi, virgin!reader, overstimulation, oral(fem receiving), cheating, drugs/poisoning, kidnapping.

✖ That being said, I do NOT condone yandere-like/obsessive/possessive behaviour in real life. this is a work of fiction therefore I will indulge in it. If you do NOT like this kind of content, please just ignore it.

notes; Welcome to the first installation to Monster Mash, where we explore the strange and unusual with our monster fucker anonymous club! 👻 🎃 Let’s get spooky, bitches! As always, I just want to take the time to thank you all for the interest in Monster Mash! 😳 I was not expecting it tbh so thank you all so much!💕 also if the writing style of this seems weird just know that I wrote half of this in 2018 so some parts read different from my usual write style, in my opinion at least 😭 hehe~ anyway, enjoy this first chapter and I will see you all in the next! 😌✨

word count; ~5100

chapters; 1 - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x

baby, why don't you see, see my sea?

make slow, get inside and pull on my sea

get inside and build your castle into me

Jihoon’s head breaks through the surface of water, sea foam momentarily blinding him as he frantically searches beyond the jagged rocks for any sign of his human companion. His fragile hands move slowly over the rocks. She’s late again, He thinks. Nothing new.

A sigh escapes his lips as he rests his head on one of the rocks, closing his eyes as he waits, a soft hum on his lips when he drifts out of consciousness.

When he wakes, he isn’t even aware he’s fallen asleep but the frantic thoughts that someone’s found him sends him into overdrive as his pale grey eyes sweep over the shore once again; eyes landing on a figure sitting not too far away.

“Jihoon you’ve fallen asleep on me again.” You chide. A blush forms on Jihoon’s cheeks as he ducks under the water momentarily, hoping the slight chill of the water will keep the heat from spreading to his face. “You’re late again”, he starts, “We agreed to meet here when the tower bell chimes for sun down every other nightfall, didn’t we?” There’s a moment of hesitation on his end but he wades through the water, carefully making his way towards you.

“I’m really sorry about being late, it was Jeonghan, I--”

Jihoon’s eyes flash a pale pink, tuning you out at the sound of his name. Jeonghan; the prince and your soon to be husband. Jihoon doesn’t like him, not one bit. “It’s fine! I’m just glad you could make it…” A pout on his lips as he picks a rock near your legs, propping his arms up onto it as he stares up at you and rests his chin on his folded arms.

“What were you up to today, Jihoonie?” You ask. Your fingers curl around the hem of your dress as you pull it further up your legs, not wanting it to get wet from the rising tide. He hums in thought, his eyes falling onto your bare legs.

“Um, well, Seungcheol-hyung and I went and checked out that sunken ship I told you about last week… There was still some stuff left inside so we brought it back to the castle!”

A smile graces your lips as you watch him talk animatedly; there was always something so calming about being around Jihoon. You fondly remembered the first time you’d met him. Scared and curious about the man peering at you from beyond the rocks, not knowing that he felt the exact same way that you did.

That had been a few months ago now and the two of you had become good friends, meeting every other night for a chat before anyone in the castle knew you were missing. He was handsome, kind and most of all, friendly.

“Hey, are you listening?” Jihoon pouts up at you, lips curling into a teasing smile when a blush forms on your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, I was zoning out thinking about how we met. Why don’t you start again, from the beginning?”

“You’re late.”

Jeonghan’s already a third of a way through dinner before you enter through the double doors. “Forgive me, I’ve--I’ve lost track of time.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he picks at his food; this was quite routine of you. “Isn’t that what you always say?” You take a seat across Jeonghan, grimacing when the wet hem of your dress touches your bare legs. “I like taking my time on my walks. It helps me clear my head.”

Jeonghan takes a sip of his wine, standing from the grandiose table as he makes his way down the length of it, to your side.

“You should be careful on those walks of yours. I’ve heard there’s dangerous creatures lurking around the edges of town. You wouldn’t want to get caught up in the crossfire, would you?”

“No, Jeonghan, I--I wouldn’t.”

“Jihoon-hyung!!”

Seungkwan swims over to Jihoon; a bright smile on his face when he reaches the older male. “Hey, are you alright? You seem upset.”

Jihoon’s pale grey eyes blink sadly, “I’m… okay. I’m just…”

“It’s that human again, isn’t it?”

It always is, Jihoon thinks. He was always glad for your friendship and your kindness, but he always craved for more. Even if the current circumstances didn’t allow it. “Well, yes. It’s just that... I wish there was a way I could get her to see me and not my… well, you know.” He chuckles sadly, watching the way Seungkwan mimics his sadness.

Jihoon liked Seungkwan.

Out of all of his brothers, he was always the most empathetic.

“She’s going to be married, hyung. To the prince, no less. She’ll be queen eventually once the king passes and Prince Jeonghan takes his place. Need I remind you she’s human and you’re not? You should be thankful she hasn’t exposed you yet.”

The older male grimaces at the thought alone. She’d never do that to me.

“I know, I know. It’s just going to take some time, that’s all. She’s not like the other royals on land… She’s a good person.”

Seungkwan wraps an arm around Jihoon’s shoulder; lips pursed in a tight smile. “You’re in line for the throne here as well, you know? The other hyungs don’t seem to care for the throne, but you, hyung, suit it well. You’ll find someone. I promise.”

The next morning, you wake up with a sigh on your lips.

I hate it here.

The only reason why you were to be wed to Prince Jeonghan was solely because both of your respective parents wanted to have a joint rulership of the western lands and needed successors down the line, should the time come. Neither you nor Jeonghan were necessarily happy with the idea, but Jeonghan had quickly taken a certain possessiveness over you that confused you greatly.

On most days, he seemed uncaring, even standoffish. But there were a few times since the announcement of your marriage where he seemed to have quickly taken the role of overbearing husband.

A knock at your door brings you out of your thoughts; a small ‘come in’ muttered just loud enough as an older handmaid pokes her head in.

“Miss, we should get you ready for the day. Prince Jeonghan would like your company for tea in the garden.”

That’s new.

“I’m telling you that Wonwoo is dangerous, Vernon! You need to be careful!”

Jihoon swims up to Seungcheol and Vernon in the heat of their conversation, brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on?”

Seungcheol lets out an exasperated sigh in return, “It’s that Wonwoo…”

Jihoon’s lips purse into a firm line. Not all mercreatures were gifted with magical abilities, but Wonwoo was one of the few that were. He granted anyone of their desires, whether the intentions were good or bad. As long as you paid the right price for it. Wonwoo lingered on the southern side of the underwater kingdom, tucked away within the giant kelp and crystal caves where most mercreatures knew to stay away from.

Although, the younger ones were always riddled with temptation.

“Vernon, what were you even doing over there?” Jihoon asks. The youngest exhales harshly, avoiding his hyungs’ piercing stares.

“I just---I was curious. That’s all.”

This time it’s Seungcheol who inquires, “About what, exactly?”

“Don’t you ever wonder what you would have to trade to be able to go on land, at least once?”

Jihoon clenches his jaw. He knew better.

He knew better.

Jeonghan waits patiently and never raises his voice.

Quite frankly, he’s not very good at it, he’ll admit.

However, what he does expect from you is your obedience and absolute loyalty to him, especially with your wedding just around the corner.

The last thing he wanted were the townspeople talking about a king with a disloyal and disobedient wife.

“You wanted to see me for tea?” Jeonghan looks up from his lap, noting you standing a few feet away with Mingyu, one of his guards.

“Yes, have a seat. Mingyu, you can go.” The taller male nods, pulling out the garden chair for you before he leaves. Jeonghan pours you a cup of warm tea, sliding the tea cup across the small table. “I spoke to my father earlier this morning before he left.” His eyes flit to you, already noticing the way the colour drains from your face at the simple mention.

“They want us to move the wedding closer. Next week, if possible.”

“I--wh--why exactly, may I ask?”

Jeonghan can hear the shakiness in your voice as he reaches for his own tea cup. “First of all, it’s not my choice. My father just requested as such and I expect you to fall in line as well. These nightly walks along the edges of town need to stop, immediately. I can’t have rumours flying around town about us. Am I clear?”

Your hands ball up into fists in your lap; tomorrow might be the last time you’d be able to speak to Jihoon.

“I--yes, I understand.”

When the tower bell chimes for sundown the next evening, you’re already waiting by the water’s edge.

You had to make it back in time before Jeonghan noticed you’d already snuck out.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His half-hearted smile is enough to alert you that he hasn’t been having the best of days either. But you find yourself getting choked up as your vision blurs with each second; unshed tears making it hard for you to speak.

“I--I’m sorry, but---but I c-can’t come back here…” You whisper out. Jihoon’s eyes flash a pale pink as he leans up onto a rock closer to you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jihoon, I’m---I’m getting married next w-week.”

Jihoon begs for forgiveness in his head.

Asks to be spared for the sin he’s about to commit.

He fumbles through the giant kelp; tail getting caught with each second he goes further and further into the murky depths until he comes across the crystal caves.

It would be just one time. He promises.

He finds the small opening in the cave, making sure nobody sees him when he swims in.

“Oh? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Wonwoo’s voice is deep and matches the alluring smirk painted across his features when he spots Jihoon at the entrance. “Can’t say I’ve seen someone look so hesitant in a long while.”

Jihoon feels a sense of dread wash over him when he gets closer to the male, gulping down his second guesses as he opens his mouth to speak.

“T-to go on land. What… what would I need to--to trade.”

Wonwoo laughs loud enough for it to bounce off of the cave walls, head thrown back in absolute bliss.

“My, my. You sound more serious than the last one who came to ask.” He pauses, swimming down closer to Jihoon who backs away by nature. “You know, people offer me all sorts of things. Riches, jewels, even parts of themselves. All cliché when you think about it. And all things replaceable in theory.”

The twinkle in Wonwoo’s eyes lets Jihoon know he’s going to be in more trouble than he anticipated.

“No… what I want is something irreplaceable. Something that lets me know you really want this.”

Vernon will be missed.

But it was his fault for being so curious, they’ll all say.

He shouldn’t have asked Wonwoo.

He should’ve known better.

Just like Jihoon.

A few days have passed since the last time you see Jihoon and being castle-bound is eating away at you.

The wedding is in five more nightfalls and with each day, you find yourself more and more miserable.

“Miss, please turn to your left. We need to finish your wedding dress before the day is over.” Sighing, you do as told, facing the large mirror where you see the sadness in your eyes.

A sharp knock brings everyone’s attention to the door as one of your hand maids rushes to answer it.

This time it’s Seokmin, one of Jeonghan’s other guards and best friend, at the door. “I’m so sorry to disturb, however we have a guest. A Prince from… the east. Prince Jeonghan would like your company in the grand hall, immediately.”

Confusion crosses your features, but you nod, shooing Seokmin away as you already make efforts to get the heavy fabric off of you. It takes a good few minutes before you’re completely free and redressed in more casual attire and you all but rush down the hall, curious to see who the newcomer is.

The first thing you see is Jeonghan speaking to a slightly shorter male; a tight lipped smile on his face.

He catches you from around the corner, gesturing you forward.

“Ah, here she is. My wife, to-be.” The unknown male turns to face you and you feel your breath caught in your throat.

Jihoon? No…

He shoots you a knowing smile, reaching for your hand as he kisses the back of it. “It’s my pleasure. I’m Prince Jihoon. Of the East.” Your fingers feel clammy in his hold, confusion on your features even when you introduce yourself back to him in a low whisper.

“I can’t say I remember there being a Prince Jihoon from the east. Interesting.” Jeonghan comments. Jihoon chuckles lightly, releasing your hand as he turns to face Jeonghan once more.

“Yes, I’m quite sorry for my sudden arrival. You see, I never really was one for the throne or anything of the sort. No, I’m more into studies and books. However, there’s been a bit of a change in interests lately so I figured I’d come… and see what the world has to offer.” He shoots Jeonghan a smile, eyes forming crescents.

“I also do apologize, but would it be alright if I stayed here a few nights? Just before I head back to my own. I don’t have anywhere to stay and, well, I seem a little under-packed for my journey.”

Jeonghan bites the inside of his cheek, “I… suppose. Actually, our wedding is in five more days. Why don’t you stay until then. See how the town celebrates.”

Jihoon turns to you; a smirk on his lips as his eyes flash a pale pink.

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Jihoon stays in the bedroom across the hall from you, just a couple doors down.

You tell Jeonghan you’re not feeling too well and that you’ll be in your bedroom until you finally feel better; but the reality is that you slink off to Jihoon’s room when the coast is clear and the halls are free of Jeonghan’s guards.

You softly knock at his door, whispering his name until he opens the door for you; a giddy smile on his lips.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the princess. To what do I owe this honour?”

“Please, don’t---don’t play this game with me right now. What in heaven’s name is--how are you even here!?” You whisper harshly. Jihoon tugs you into his room, locking the door behind you as he presses you against it.

“I just… wanted to try something, that’s all. I thought you’d be happy to see me.” There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice and you can’t hold back the sigh that floats out past your lips.

“Please, Jihoon, I’m so incredibly happy to see you. It’s just, I---this is a big shock and with the wedding, it’s---and your legs, how---”

Jihoon cuts you off with a kiss, fingertips under your chin as he tilts your head up to meet his.

You immediately melt into the kiss, fingertips tangling into his soft hair.

Were you always attracted to Jihoon like this?

He eats up all of your soft and quiet moans as he presses you harder into the door, slotting a leg between yours just you finally find your senses.

“W--wait, I--no, we--we can’t, Jihoon…” You push him away as gently as you can; a soft pink coating your cheeks. “It’s just that Jeonghan--”

“Please, can we not speak about him.” Jihoon grumbles, stepping away from you as he makes his way towards the bed. “No offense, but it’s quite obvious that neither of you want to be in this marriage anyway. I don’t understand why you keep trying to defend him.”

You stand by the door, eyes fixated on the way Jihoon leans back on the bed. Mental images of you in his lap, naked and in absolute bliss flit through your mind in a split second.

“It’s---it’s not that, it’s just that... “ You’re unsure of what to say next; Jihoon was right in the fact that neither of you were too keen on the marriage but the two of you were also just following orders for the betterment of the kingdoms.

“I’m sorry, I should go, You should rest up, Jihoon. Dinner will be in a few hours.”

You turn to leave, body warm with thoughts you knew you shouldn’t have been having.

Jihoon can sense it too. The way your body craves his.

“I’ll see you later, princess.”

Dinner goes on without any issues, which you’re thankful for and Jeonghan and Jihoon seem to be on alright terms despite Jeonghan’s initial concerns and suspicions.

You retreat back to your room after a walk around the grounds to clear your head, hand on the doorknob of your bedroom when Jihoon comes barreling into your back.

“J--Jihoon, what--”

“Inside, now, sweetheart.”

You shuffle into the bedroom, turning to face Jihoon who turns the lock. “What are you doing?!”

“What we both want.”

A blush coats your cheeks as he walks you back towards the bed; his hands immediately finding purchase on your waist as he sits you down onto it. “Do you think I’m oblivious to what you want?” His voice drops an octave and you feel the arousal starting to pool in your lower half. “I--I---”

“You what, princess? Tell me what you want, what’s going on in that mind of yours.”

You know you shouldn’t, you know you should fall in line with Jeonghan and what your parents say.

But the other part of you just wants to be freed of all your responsibilities and expectations.

So you make a decision, gulping when you wrap a hand around Jihoon’s forearm.

“I want y-you.”

A soft moan floats through the air just as Jihoon sinks the first finger into your warmth, your fingers locking into his hair as his tongue flicks at your clit.

Jihoon knew more than you anticipated.

He smiles against your skin as he leans in closer, flattening his tongue against you as you bite your lip to hold in your noises when he drags the flat of his tongue through your folds.

“Such a shame, princess. I’d love to hear my name rolling off those pretty lips of yours.” He teases; curling his finger into you just right until it grazes against your sweet spot. Your legs clamp tighter around his head instead as Jihoon laughs.

“We’ll have to save it for another time. When we have more privacy, hmm?”

Another time?

Jihoon sucks your clit into his mouth as your hips cant up to meet his movements. He gently adds another fingers after a few more pumps; noting the way your walls tighten around them instinctively. You can feel the pressure building up when he starts to scissor and curl them just right, a shaky cry on your lips.

“Ji--Jihoon, ah, something’s---”

“S’okay, let it happen.” Mumbling, he doubles his effort, tongue flicking at your clit harshly as he works to throw you over the edge.

A choked sob gets caught in your throat when you cum on his fingers and tongue and he works you through it with patience and adoration. He slows down his fingers as you continue to ride your high, tongue still lapping at your clit in slower strokes until your fingers loosen their grip on his hair.

“Everything okay?” Jihoon murmurs, pulling his fingers from inside of you as he pulls away.

“Mm… Mmhmm…”

Jihoon sits up, wrapping his wet digits around his cock as he pumps himself. He smears the precum down his shaft; a soft groan on his lips.

“Do you still want me, princess?”

You nod shakily, watching as he scoots in closer. He runs the head of his cock through your soaking folds as you mewl quietly at the sensitivity your body feels. “If it hurts, just let me know, okay?”

Jihoon’s soft voice is enough for you to relax under his touch and he uses his free hand to wrap your leg around his waist before he positions himself at your entrance. His eyes dance up your torso until they land on your flushed face, grey eyes searching for any sort of hesitance.

“This is your last chance, princess. You can stop me here and we can forget this.”

Your heart pangs in sudden guilt over Jeonghan, but you quickly push it out of your head. There was nothing wrong about this; You wanted him.

“I want you, J-Jihoon…”

He nods at your response, taking a deep breath before he starts to sink his cock into your wet cunt.

There’s a subtle stinging you feel, a whimper on your lips when he only just gets the head of his cock in. “Okay?” He asks, fingertips massaging the skin of your thighs. The momentary pause is enough for some of the stinging to subside so you nod, clammy hands digging into the sheets.

Jihoon lets out a guttural moan, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he bottoms out after a few tense seconds. “Oh, god, you---you feel so good, princess…”

He leans over you, kissing you on the forehead before he leans in to kiss you on the lips; swallowing up your mewls and whimpers as you get used to the feeling of Jihoon’s cock snug between your warm walls.

“Jihoon, please---please move…” Your words are muffled against his lips as he smiles, nodding when he pulls away from you.

Jihoon starts a slow pace at first; skillful hips pistoning into you. He watches you bite your lip when he angles his thrusts in a particular way, smirking when he knows he’s gotten your sweet spot.

“Look at you… So pretty underneath me, where you belong.” He licks his lips, pupils blown wide. “You know I’d do anything for you, right, princess? Just say the word and I’ll give it to you.” His grip on you gets tighter as his fingernails dig into the skin of your thighs.

“Ngh… Ji--Jihoon…” You whimper quietly as your hips cant up to meet his thrusts. “Please, m-more…”

The head of his cock grazes against your g-spot with each thrust and you can’t help the moans that bubble past your lips at the feeling.

Jeonghan momentarily flits through your mind again and Jihoon can sense the way you seem to tense up. He bites the inside of his cheek at this, pulling his cock out of you as confusion crosses your features.

“Jihoon, wh--”

“I want you on your hands and knees for me.” He murmurs; using his strength to flip you onto your stomach.

It takes a second for you to catch your bearings, hands planted on the bed sheets as he tugs your ass closer to himself. He repositions his cock at your entrance, bottoming out in a single thrust as he starts a much quicker pace this time.

In this position, he can fuck you deeper, hips slamming into your ass as you slowly slump down against the sheets.

A sharp knock at the door a few minutes later has you gasping as you reach behind you to try and push Jihoon off. He doesn’t budge, instead, smirks at the way your pussy clenches harder around his cock.

“Princess? It’s me.”

Jeonghan.

Jihoon leans over your back, kissing your shoulder once before whispering in your ear. “You should answer him. Before he gets suspicious.” You clear your throat to the best of your ability, brows furrowed when Jihoon reaches a hand around, fingertips on your clit rubbing soft circles.

“Y-yes, Jeonghan?”

“May I come in? I’d like to speak with you.” Your heart pangs in a way you don’t expect, teeth clenched hard when you feel the pleasure starting to peak again.

“I’m, a-ah, so---so sorry, Jeonghan, I’ve already, hah, d-dressed for bed. M--maybe tomorrow? O--over tea, perhaps?” You shakily offer; hoping that he doesn’t barge his way in.

“Right. Of course, my mistake. It’s quite late. I’ll see you for tea tomorrow then. Sleep well.”

You hear his footsteps just as your second orgasm hits you; body seizing up under Jihoon as he continues to fuck you through it.

“Such a naughty little princess, aren’t you? Laying with someone else while your husband-to-be is on the other side of that door. And not only that, but taking your pleasure from someone else inside of you too? My, my.” He teases, eyes flashing the same pale pink in warning.

He pinches your clit between his fingertips, loving the way your body jolts under his touch. “Ngh… Jihoon I---I can’t…” You whine. Your body feels extremely sensitive now that you’d cum twice, but Jihoon laughs lightly as he pulls out from you yet again.

“You’ve taken your pleasure twice now, princess. But what about me?”

Jihoon flips you over yet again; a sheen of sweat on your body and his.

An idea pops into his head, smiling down at you before he, himself, rests against the pillows next to you. “Get on my lap, princess.”

You shakily get up, swinging a leg over him as you situate yourself on his thighs. He helps guide you, hands on your waist until you’re hovering right above his cock. “Stay like this.” Mumbling, he uses a free hand to guide his cock until it’s right at your entrance again. “Now sink down onto my cock, princess.”

Not really knowing how slow or fast to go, you sink down onto his cock in a single motion; the air knocked out of Jihoon and your lungs when you’re finally completely seated on his cock.

You let out a choked cry at the feeling; oversensitivity biting into you already when he places his hands on your waist again. “Mmh, okay, princess, you’re---you’re gonna raise yourself up and down, okay?” Nodding, you brace your hands on his torso, lifting yourself up and dropping yourself back down onto his cock.

The two of you share a moan as you fall into a rhythm; Jihoon planting his feet down flat onto the sheets as his hips cant up to meet your movements. You alternate bouncing on his lap and swiveling your hips, testing different ways and seeing how he reacts.

Jihoon feels his abdomen tightening as he finally feels his orgasm coming, a soft growl on his lips.

“P--princess, I’m---I’m so close.” He whispers harshly, eyes slamming shut as he chases his high. “Touch yourself for me. I want you to feel good with me one more time.”

“J--Jihoon I---I c-can’t…”

“Oh but you can, sweetheart. I can feel you already close again too.” He teases.

Jihoon takes one of your hands from his chest, bringing it to your clit as you blush. “Right here. Make yourself feel good too.” His voice is soft yet alluring and enough for you to slowly rub circles around your swollen clit. You immediately let out a cry, letting Jihoon take the reins again as he fucks up into you.

“Together, princess, with me.”

This time when you cum a few perfectly angled thrusts later, Jihoon does too; hips stuttering and a sultry moan on his lips. Your vision is blurry, tears wetting your eyelashes as you slump over into Jihoon’s chest.

Your entire body shakes; fingertips numb as you let out soft cries against his warm skin. “Jihoon…”

The two of you stay in that position for a while longer and his heartbeat is enough to lull you into a soft slumber, eyes finally welcoming sleep as your tired body lays on top of him.

“That’s right, princess. Go to sleep. You’re tired, aren’t you?” You nod gently, unaware of the way Jihoon smirks down at your head.

“I’ll get you cleaned up and make sure nobody sees you like this.”

You smile gently, warm and sated as you let the sleep take over.

When you wake, the warm sun filters through the curtains.

A smile graces your lips as you blink your sleepy eyes open and something immediately feels off.

This… isn’t my bed?

Your brows furrow in confusion as your vision focuses, taking in your surroundings as you sit up. “Where---where am I?” Mumbling softly, you move to take the covers off of you, noticing immediately that your left leg is bound to the bedpost.

Panic floods your senses; a cold sweat down your temple as you tug on it harshly. “Jihoon!? Jeonghan!? Hello!?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn’t yell so loudly if I were you. You’ll only hurt your throat.”

Jihoon enters the room with a small tray in hand, placing it on a nearby table as he sits by you on the bed. He shoots you a warm smile; grey eyes permanently a soft pinkish hue.

“Jihoon, where----where is this? Where are we?”

“Oh, that Wonwoo. You know, I traded a great deal to be here with you. But he’s just so selfish.” There’s a soft chuckle on his lips as he shakes his head in thought. “I traded him a life for a week on land. But it’s not enough, you know? He wanted more so I gladly let him have two more for a little bit more time. A month! Can you believe it?”

“J--Jihoon, pl--please, this---why---”

“But don’t worry. I couldn’t kill the Prince. No, no, no even I am not that cruel. But those bodyguards of his… Tsk, such a handful those two. They saw me leaving with you and, my, well… Wonwoo does like a good trade.”

His soft laugh is sweeter than a siren’s call; genuine happiness lacing each second.

“But---but what if they c-come looking f--for me? And---And you know they w-will, Jihoon...”

Jihoon smiles, eyes hollow as he stares out of the window.

He’d already thought of every escape plan in the book.

“Oh my, well… Wonwoo will just have to keep giving me more time with the amount of bodies that will pile up outside of our castle, princess. Don’t you worry your little head.”

“Hey, did you hear about what happened at the castle this morning?”

“Not at all. Do tell!”

“They said they found Prince Jeonghan poisoned! And his bodyguards were found dead in the grand hall!”

“Dead!?”

“Yes! Dead! They’re unsure whether or not the prince will wake… As of right now there’s no suspects or even any hint of who could’ve done it! But the poor princess…”

“What happened to her? Is she alright?”

“Nobody knows. She seems to have been taken, the poor soul. Not a single trace of her existence was left at the castle. It’s like she never existed.”

#woozi smut #yandere!woozi #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #jihoon smut #merman!au #merman!woozi #yandere!svt #woozi #jihoon #monstermash!svt

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arabellaaldous · 3 years

Text

Shingeko no Crystal 18+

Levi Ackerman x OC

A newly promoted addition to the Survey Corps has everyone wondering why Eren and Mikasa never mentioned their older cousin.

Major Celine Avery has broken the solo kill record within the walls, and transfers from the MP's to the Corps, taking Levi's promotion. Not only is the Captain quite angry, he is beside himself with wonder. How could this tiny, quiet and composed woman be the rage filled Titan killer he'd heard so much about? How can she be the one to help Eren destroy the Titans, and not himself? He may soon come to find out.

Chapter Two: Transfer

The feel of wood the underneath my fingertips was course and grainy. A film laid itself over my tongue, cotton swirling around my mouth. I couldn't have been more nervous.

I was on the stand at a full Military Tribunal. Centre stage for the whole of the walls to see. I was giving witness to a trial.

Premier Zachary's eye bored straight into my soul, causing me to gulp down a dry swallow. I knew why I was here. My little cousin had turned into a Titan, and they thought I'd known about it.

"Captain Avery," the premier started, "You have been asked here today to give council on the outcome of your kin's life. Do you submit to being questioned by this panel?"

I looked across the line of men that had gathered before me. Each of the regiment leaders of our military stood facing me, ready to give me a good dressing down.

"I submit," I answered, nodding my head.

"Then I shall go first," Zachary straightened his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and looked down at his stack of papers.

"When did you first meet Eren Jeager?" he asked.

My mouth took over for me, willingly giving the answer.

"I've known him his whole life," I stated, "I helped my mother deliver him when my aunt Carla gave birth."

Zachary furthered on.

"And you raised him after the fall of wall Maria?"

"Yes, sir."

"In any of that time, did he ever mention his abilities, or seem to know about them at all?"

"No, sir."

The premier looked to his papers once more, staring at me once more when he was finished.

"You have an outstanding military record, Captain, quite impressive. Have you ever used your position in the Military Police to further your cousins training?" he questioned.

I sighed. "Sir, I wasn't aware that he had even joined up until General Pixis was informing me of our plan to use him to seal wall Rose."

"But you had correspondence," Nile Dok interrupted from below the Premier stand, "You exchanged letters weekly for the three years you've been with us!"

"Yes, Sir," I stated pointedly at him, " In which time Eren Jeager had lied to me, telling me that he still resided in my previous residence, which I had been sending him money to rent on my behalf."

I snapped my head back around to Eren whom sat shackled against a post. I was furious with him. The terrified look in his eyes when I looked at him told me he knew it as well.

"We've combed through all of Yeager and Captain Avery's letter's, sir, there is no evidence to persuade us that she knew anything otherwise," Pixis spoke up, silencing Nile.

A scorned look washed over Dok's face, and he crossed his arms, going silent once again.

"Commander Erwin, you've been awfully quiet, would you care to join us?" Zachary asked the tall blonde ahead of me.

Erwin's jaw tightened as he peered straight into my eyes. I could feel him searching my face for any inconsistency, any false tell to crack my story. Yet I knew he wouldn't find any.

"Captain, you were found last week, covered in your comrade's blood, standing atop a pile of five titans. How did you escape death when all of your troops could not?" Erwin asked.

My heart sunk to my stomach, and my mind went numb. All I could do was stand there silently, reliving the horror we had gone through.

"I-I don't remember, Commander," I offered meekly, " In all honesty sir, I remember hitting my head quite heard on the bell tower, and blacking out. I had woken up only minutes before i was found. I only know that I watched my squad die at the hands of wretched beasts, and I wish I could've gotten to them before they did."

I only stared forward at the floor as I said my piece, giving all of the evidence that I knew. But soon after a moment of silence, Erwin spoke again, and I was launched back to reality from my state of half conscious thought.

"Thank you, Captain. That is all."

"If there are no further questions, we will move on to the next item pertaining to Captain Avery," Zachary said.

With nothing but quiet coming from the room he cleared his throat and moved on.

"Captain, although you have moved quite quickly within the ranks of the military police, it has come to the government's attention that you are coveted as a soldier by more than one of our regiments now. This panel has decided it best that you be placed under either the Garrison or Scout regiments. Following no major objections from yourself, of course."

I heard a gasp go throughout the room, a quiet uproar coming from the stands, and a few of the officers in the gallery.

"Order," Zachary pounded his open palm against his desk. "Captain Avery?"

I was without a doubt shocked beyond belief, but as I was faced with the question, I looked around the justice hall.

To my left, Armin and Mikasa held terrified gazes as they watched my every move. Behind me, Eren shook his head in protest, knowing what I was about to do. I turned back to the panel and gave my answer.

"I have no objections," I offered simply.

With a sigh, Zachary swept a hand over General Pixis and Commander Erwin, both of which had stepped forward, presenting me with a formal read out of the positions they were to offer me.

"You will be presented with an offer from each regiment, and be given the opportunity to choose which you will join."

I nodded, Looking to General Pixis as he cleared his throat.

"Captain Avery," he started, "In these trying times, we need soldiers like yourself to defend humanity with all they have. I believe that a soldier will not fight if not to gain something for themselves. Most soldiers take the chance to live another day as enough incentive. Though I see you as the type of person who needs incentivized in other ways."

The general began to pace in front of my table, making me wonder how detailed his proposal would be.

"You would be housed in the interior, given captain's quarters in his majesty's royal guard. Your salary would increase to double what it is now, and your adoptive children would also be given housing in their unit of choice."

His offer was grande, even for a captain such as myself, yet his offer was short and sweet. The room fell silent as he retreated to the side of the remaining commander. It was Erwin's turn.

His stature was all the more intimidating as he came to place himself before me, far too close to the table for my comfort. I nearly had to crane my neck in order to meet his gaze. I shuddered.

"Captain," Erwin gave me a courteous nod, one I returned, before continuing.

"I have taken the liberty of looking into your your training scores, seeing that you graduated number one in your regiment. You are a very skilled soldier. This puts you in high demand according my opposing commander," Erwin began to pace as he spoke, lending an over the shoulder glance at Pixis before he continued on.

" I would like to lie to you and tell you that I could offer you a safe place to live and a certainty that you will be alive, but we both know that that would not be true." I gulped down a lump in my throat an nodded as he continued.

"I am not the only member of the scouting legion that wants you for our team, but I am the one that desires your presence the most. If there's one thing I can guarantee you, it's the fact that you will be a very valued member of our team. You would have a private office and sleeping quarters in the legion's headquarters, the option of any scouts you see fit to create your own squad, and a promotion to Major," a gasp went throughout the stands as he said the words, whispers following close at hand.

"What about captain Levi?"

"Isn't he next in line?"

"He's gonna be pissed."

Clearing his throat, Erwin closed his statement.

"Even with all these glittering advancements to your title, I cannot ensure your happiness. The probability of your death is a high one. Just know that when you consider your options."

My mind was buzzing with background chatter as Erwin receded to his earlier stance. Though he was now farther from me, I still felt the commanding aura that radiated from him as he gave his speech.

Join the garrison, and I would be able to make sure Armin and Mikasa were safe, looked after and cared for. I could force them to stay away from the scouts. Though I knew that Pixis wouldn't be granted leave of Eren. He would be sent with Erwin.

Join the scouts, and I end up launching myself full force into Erwin's dastardly plans beyond the wall, actually having the responsibility of helping him plan them. No more glorified baby sitter job for me, investigating behind closed doors and being a spy. I would be a soldier. A proper, blood drenched, battle proven soldier.

The heavy thuds of the premiers palm against the table echoed through my brain as the hissing from the stands grew louder before coming to a stand still. This whole trial was a blur.

"Captain, if you wish, you will be allowed time to-"

"No," I interrupted Zachary lowly. "No, sir, I don't need time to decide."

"Then state your intent, Captain Avery. Which Branch of our military will you be joining?" He asked in return.

I looked back to Eren once more, seeing his wife green eyes plead with me. He spoke no words, only breathed heavily as we exchanged that knowing eye.

My eyes caught on Armin's before I could look back to the panel. At first he shared Eren's look, practically begging me not to choose what he'd known I already had. When his face changed, it had become stoic and strong, a nod once more coming from him, letting me know his intent.

With a quiet salute that said, "I will follow you to the edge of the world," he gave me the courage to look back to the premier.

"I will join the Survey Corps."

#aot x reader #aot x oc #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman smut #levi smut #levi x you #eren #aot fanfiction #aot smut #aot headcannons #shingeki no kyojin #snk smut #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #eren jeager

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blushing-starker · 3 years

Note

Another holiday one: Peter and Pepper going caroling together and they visit Tony in the workshop. The bots are wearing Santa hats

"Peter, darling, you know you can get him anything and he'll be over the moon, right? He loves you and it'd kill Tony to know this is causing you so much stress. We could always do a joint gift if that helps? After caroling, the night is ours and so is the mall."

God, what did he do to deserve Miss Potts? She has a solution for all the problems in the world, never hesitates to take what she wants and could probably kick his ass twenty different ways without breaking a sweat. Just last night, she'd cocked her head, put on a disappointed face and Peter was done, defeated, tore himself away from Tony's side at the lab to devour some freshly baked pie Rhodey had dropped by. They'd been working for hours, basically a hair's breadth away from a breakthrough, but Miss Potts didn't like her boys tinkering too long without eating.

Now she's holding his hand like it isn't serious, like it doesn't set Peter's heart aflame because this is Pepper Potts, kind and strong and witty and amazing, showing affection in a public place without shame or fear. And yeah, Tony would never be cold to him outside, but the man's a koala when you earn his trust. Peter has to practically pry the billionaire off from Pepper when the CEO has a meeting to conquer (he's dating a CEO, he's dating a billionaire, he's dating a CEO, he's dating a-

"Sweetheart, I see the gears turning in that head of yours, same as Tony. What is it, Peter?" The snow starts to fall a bit harder and they quicken their pace, catch up with Nat, Bucky and Bruce as they line themselves up before the next porch, ready to start caroling their hearts out. Who'd have thought they enjoyed the season this much?

The others didn't come because decorating the tower and baking dessert for 20 plus people took a team effort. Peter had wrapped an arm around Miss Potts' waist and swung them to the car before they were snatched up by Steve to help in the kitchen. They'd been pressed pretty close, Peter not wanting to risk hurting his, what, lover? Girlfriend? His lover's wife? Either way, he had curled around the tall woman, tried to not jostle her too much in case she got sick. It had been nice. Very nice, really.

The whole thing had lasted maybe thirty seconds so yeah. Technically, this is the first time they've had physical contact for a relatively long period of time. He's eighteen now, not supposed to be getting so hyped and nervous over something as simple as holding hands and going caroling along a snow covered neighborhood adorned with a thousand Christmas lights. But, but he's always been a romantic at heart and the neon glow is reflected off of shiny snowflakes that taste like something pure and special, his teammates are joyous, look decades younger, Bucky's cat Alpine has stubbornly decided to crisscross his ankles and Miss Potts ' is just really fucking pretty, ok?

"Peter?" He gets why Tony can submit so easily to the force of nature that is Pepper Potts ; is rather sure it has something to do with honest eyes and a gentle way of loving broken men.

"Um, you're very pretty, Miss Potts," way to go, Peter. It's a wonder he and Tony even got together when they share one brain cell and it's mainly dedicated to superhero work. Or to Miss Potts.

She softens, tugs at him until they wrap around each other and then kisses him. Light, barely there kisses on pale cheeks, his eyelids, the curve of a red nose, under an unhinged jaw. Nat shoves the team forward, says the next house will probably give them candy while winking at Peter, grins when he turns scarlet. Bucky grumbles, "it's not exactly Halloween," but she yanks the supersoldier away from them so there's some semblance of privacy present.

Miss Potts sighs, sets her chin on his head and Peter short circuits right there, is delighted by the fact that she's taller than him, vows to buy her as many heels and high boots as possible because this is extremely nice and being tucked under her is a dream come true.

"You're so nice, Pete. I don't think Tony's gonna last a month before he says he loves you, not with someone so considerate and amazing. Nat bet it'd take me three months, but right now? Tony would take one look at me and say three weeks. We've been outside for a while, how about we head back home? See if our ridiculous baby got away with sneaking to the lab?"

Oh. Oh, is he supposed to speak after that? Function when she just sent his world tumbling down in a second or two? He inhales slowly, presses his frost bitten lips to a long neck and shivers when Miss Potts laughs, sound as pure and lovely as the freshly fallen snow around them.

---:---------:----------:---------:-----------:---------:--------:---------:---

On the way back home (HomeHomeHomeHomeHomeHome), he catches sight of a pretzel stand and nearly slams them into the side of a building. Miss Potts does that thing where she chuckles almost silently and maybe it'll take her three weeks but Peter's ready to declare his love for her right then, absolutely smitten and aware of it. He wonders if this is what Tony felt when he fell for Miss Potts. Wonders if his boyfriend would tell him all about it soon enough.

Miss Potts strokes his cheek, smile this side of sharp and mischievous. "Does my boy want something?" It's a soft question with a soft touch with a not so soft look in eyes that could tear him apart any day of the week. His web snaps and they tumble down to the street, are saved by the fact there's three feet of snow by the building's back entrance and they weren't that high up.

Peter gets a pretzel from Miss Potts.

------:--------:--------:--------:--------:--------:--------:--------:-------:-

Their lover (loverloverloverlover) is, in fact, hiding in the lab. There's a neon glow here, too, wrapped around Tony as he reassembles holograms, sketches new designs for the spider suit, revises old architecture plans with the gaze of a hawk.

"Anthony Potts, you put down that hologram right now! You were supposed to help out and decorate; not adjust Peter's suit. Again." Tony jolts back, clicks his fingers and everything disappears from the lab table as if Jarvis had never brought several of the genius' secret files to life. He looks like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar and Peter isn't gonna let him forget this for as long as they live.

There's plenty of space on the table now so he settles there, swings his legs up and down, grins up at a fidgeting Tony. "Anthony Potts is new." A cookie tray is tucked away behind a pile of papers and it's too tempting not to snack on one even if he just inhaled a pretzel.

"I can call you Peter Potts, too, you know. Don't tease him, I know you would've been here helping Tony out if we hadn't gone caroling."

It's Tony's turn to grin and Peter's turn to flush now. Two more cookies are snatched, shoved into his face. "I kind of like that. The Potts thing. It's nice."

Miss Potts crosses over to them, wraps a finger around the one curl he can never tame and pulls on it until he's leaning on her palm with the sudden urge to never leave the lab. "I'm glad you like it, Peter. Anthony here has to go clean the dining table, but we can cuddle on the couch to warm up before seeing what's already cooked. How's that sound?"

"It sounds like your husband is being punished for upgrading your boyfriend's suit and making sure he doesn't die fighting some weird alien dog." Tony huffs, steals Dum-E's Santa hat with a pout before dragging himself up the stairs to the kitchen. "I'm saving everyone's lives, but no. I gotta see Steve butcher a Christmas tradition."

"There's nothing wrong with how Steve cooks the meal."

"Tell that to my grandmother and nanny. Even Jarvis could cook better and he doesn't have any hands." Said A. I hums in a suspiciously noncommittal way as his creator starts yelling about blood being spilled if a single stain is found in his prized kitchen.

The bots all seem to sigh in relief, roll over to bump Peter's knee or shoulder as affectionately as Alpine. He patiently fixes their elf ears and hats, rubs a few bells clean from grease and motor oil because Tony probably hadn't noticed and wouldn't notice until they accidentally stained something. Don't ask him or Miss Potts how, but Tony's children could ruin a fifty thousand dollar couch with purple paint without there necessarily being a can of paint around the lab.

Miss Potts' plan of cuddling on the couch is derailed when they hear screeching and curses pertaining to five different languages coming from above. She sighs, takes Peter's hand and he already knows she'll come up with a solution. She always did.

(Maybe it was time to explain he'd already found their gifts, twin silver rings with all their initials engraved hidden in his coat pocket.)

(And then Tony starts shouting something in Italian, Steve might be reverting to an Irish accent, Alpine hops on the dining table to pounce on the chicken, Miss Potts has to yank her husband away from the oven, Bucky's hair nearly catches on fire and yeah, he'll just show them on New Year's.)

#peter parker #tony stark #pepper potts #ironspider #starker #peter x tony #peter parker x tony stark #i am sleepy #i forgot #once again #the ot3 name #my writing #thank you darling katie #katie bug #🐞#pepper x peter #pepper x tony

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 4 years

Text

The Pact - Part 6

Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Gothic AU

A/N: This idea was a long time coming. My first true AU, so please be gentle. This will be a slow burn, multi-chapter fic.

A big big thank you to my bestie @kazosa for not only keeping on me to write more of this story, but also for being my beta, my cheerleader, and all around amazing human.

WC: 5K

Series Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Other Players: John Winchester, Crowley, Rowena, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore (deceased)

Series Warnings: 18+ only, mild language, violence, implied smut

The sun rose over Lawrence on a typical Tuesday morning. A familiar sound woke Sam, something he heard every Tuesday morning--the melody of the tower bells summoning the Winchester guard to court. Normally, they didn’t ring until later in the morning, but their early clanging roused a reluctant Sam from a deep, painless slumber.

When his eyes finally fluttered fully open, he slowly rolled his head to the side, knowing he’d see her there, but this morning was different than any other before it; this morning, she would wake up and truly be his wife. His mind recalled the night before, and into the early hours of that morning, rolling around on the floor, making love to the woman he was supposed to despise. The corner of his mouth twitched into an awkward smile as he thought about how she moved her body with his, how she opened up and let him take her. There was a manner of uncontrolled passion that erupted between them, and even then, he was getting hard thinking about it.

The bells rang again, along with the Horn of Gabriel, a much deeper tone that stood out over the sound of the melodic chimes. Sam furrowed his brow, knowing this meant for the guard to assemble quickly. He wondered if there was news from the front lines… from Dean. He looked at his sleeping bride with a last longing look, taking special notice of how her hair spilled out on the pillow around her. Resisting the urge to brush a finger against her cheek, he threw off the covers and didn’t think of his hip once as he put his feet on the floor and moved about his chambers to dress for the day.

Just as Sam fastened the last button on his shirt, he heard (Y/N) stirring from behind him.

“Samuel?” she spoke, half asked in a low, sleepy tone. “Where… it’s so early.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and pulled the blanket up to her collarbone, covering her naked breasts.

“Rest,” he tutted. “It is early. I need to go to court, the bells are calling the guard. I’m going to check it out, but you can go back to sleep.”

“No,” she said and sat up further in the bed. “I’ll go with you, we should present a united front.”

“I appreciate that, (Y/N), but your presence there would be questioned, even by my father. I promise to take it all in and report back.” Sam sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand for a moment before he spoke. “I’m not trying to leave you out, I swear. I just--”

“It’s fine, Sam. I understand. I just wanted to be there to support you. Dealing with your father can’t be easy.”

“Since he has seen us playing along with whatever their plan is, he’s been surprisingly pleasant,” Sam said, a small tinge of sarcasm coating his tone.

“Well, he’s getting what he wants. Of course he’s going to be kind.” She paused and gave his hand a little squeeze in return. “Sam, about last night. I--”

A deep, penetrating knock rapped at the door, interrupting her and causing both their heads to snap around. Their eyes met in a questioning glance before Sam released her hand and walked towards the door.

“Sam!” She whispered hoarsely but sharp to gain his attention. “Your cane… appearances and all that.”

“Good thinking,” he said, half embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of that. He scooped up the now unneeded crutch and went to open the chamber door.

As he pulled it open, a member of the Winchester Guard was standing at full attention.

“My Lord, your father, the King, requires your immediate attention. He needs you to come to the War Room without delay,” the guard rambled quickly, causing Sam to shake his head and lend a soft smile at the man.

“Slow down… what’s wrong? Why are the Court bells ringing so early?”

“Please, Lord Winchester, your father… he--”

Sam could see the unsettled look in the guardsman’s face and knew that something was definitely happening. He drew in a steading breath and patted the man on his ironclad shoulder.

“Let me finish dressing. Something tells me I need to be prepared for anything,” Sam said more to himself than to the guard.

“I would say that’s an accurate assessment,” the guardsman replied in the same manner, but Sam could hear the slight tremble in his words before he closed the door, blocking the man’s view into their chambers.

Sam leaned his cane near the entry, this way he wouldn’t forget it on the way out. He then made a mental note that he would also have to remember to add his now healed limp back into his entrance to the War Room. His mind began to race at what could be so urgent. It must be about Purgatory, as that was all his father had been concerned about lately. Well, that, and Sam’s ability to produce an heir.

Sighing deeply Sam sat on the edge of the bed and studied (Y/N)’s face as she did the same to him.

“You’re very troubled, husband. What could possibly be so dire that you have to run to Court at the very minute of daybreak?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, still buried in thought and growing concern. “But I plan on finding out. For now, I think you should stay here. Don’t wander today.”

“Okay, if you think that’s for the best.”

Sam’s head snapped up when she agreed so easily. “What? No fight from the Mistress Macleod? I’m shocked.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and crawled out from beneath the covers, either unaware or unphased by her vulnerable nudity and positioned herself right beside him. “I’m a Winchester now, remember? And if my Lord husband asks me to do something because he thinks it's best, then I shall grant his wish.”

Sam’s dimpled smile lit up his face, knowing that she was being half truthful and half sarcastically playful. The urgency to leave for the inevitable meeting with the King his guardsman loomed over him, but he was having difficulty pulling away from her and leaving her alone in the bed they just shared. He allowed himself his own moment of vulnerability and let his fingers slowly wander up the silky flesh of her arm, tracing his finger across her collarbone and up to her cheek.

“Thank you.” His voice was rough and low, but she didn’t pay it any mind. Instead, she placed her delicate hand against his stubbled cheek.

“Go, before he sends another Guard rapping,” (Y/N) chuckled, then leaned forward and kissed his lips tentatively. Sam returned her kiss and knew that if he didn’t stop then, his father would quickly be forgotten and he would be tangled up in her all over again.

With a grunt of frustration, Sam stood from the bed and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair by the fireplace. He could still feel the heat of the fire from the night before and smiled at the memory of how they enjoyed it for the entire night. One last look back at the woman now laying in his bed, and he left the chambers to see what fresh Hell awaited him in the War Room.

Every step towards the War Room, Sam could feel his nerves growing and vibrating beneath his skin. The tension was buzzing so loudly in his head, he was having trouble streamlining his thoughts. Luckily he had remembered to grab his cane on the way out, but halfway towards his destination, it finally registered that he needed to add in his now gone limp. By the time he reached the hulking wooden door that led to whatever awful things awaited, he was back in the habit of babying his hip; but not because he physically needed too, whatever (Y/N) had done the night before was holding strong and then some.

Drawing in one long, deep breath, Sam pushed the doors open and used his sharp eyes to survey the room the second he stepped in. To the left were his father’s top advisors, including Bobby and Pastor Jim from the Church of Lawrence. To the right of the room were a dozen or so of the Winchester Guard, standing at attention and waiting for any order the King may decree. In the middle of the room, the ancient table that mapped out the lands for hundreds of miles--including the Elven Woods and the entrances to Purgatory--was set with various pieces representing the Winchester’s army and their current battle plans. Sam noticed another set of pawns added to the table. They were black forms dotted with bright spots of bright crimson. Sam’s gut took a dive as he realized those markers belonged to Crowley’s army of demons.

Looking up, Sam finally noticed his father’s form standing in front of the raging fire, whose snap and crackle was the loudest sound in the room. John was free of his usual Royal garb, and instead dressed in a simple pair of denim pants and black long sleeved shirt. One arm was stretched all the way out, leaning against the stone mantle, while the other hand was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Dad,” Sam spoke tentatively, carefully studying his father’s slumped shoulders and lowered head, “what’s going on? Why are you calling court so early?”

John stood motionless for what felt like an eternity. When he finally turned and met his youngest son’s eyes, Sam was taken aback by what he saw in them. The normally stoic, no nonsense King of Lawrence, had wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes that made him look as though he had been crying.

Sam’s gut swelled with sickness, as he considered what could be so bad that it would cause his father to show such a surge of emotion in front of anyone, much less the highest ranking members of his Kingdom. Words were stuck in his throat as he continued to stare at John, unable to force anything more than a trembling breath to expel from between his lips.

“Samuel…” John’s rough voice finally broke through the silence of the room. “I have news from the front lines.” He paused and stood tall, lengthening himself to full height, but still not as tall as the son he was staring down. “It’s your brother, he--”

“Dean? Is he okay? Is he… dead?”

John opened his mouth to speak, but another voice chimed in before the King could answer.

“Come on Sammy, you think I’m gonna let a few Purgatory sonsofbitches take me out?”

Sam whirled around on one heel quickly, a move that would have certainly left him in agonizing pain before (Y/N)’s treatment. He didn’t even think of it, because the voice belonged to his brother, who was now standing right behind him.

“What? No hello for your big brother?”

“Dean,” Sam breathed with a relief sigh, “You’re alive!”

Sam was stunned to see Dean. Speechless, he stared at his brother, trying to convince himself that what he was seeing was real, and not some fever dream. Bruised and battered, Dean stood before his younger brother, his patented smart ass smile plastered across his face and his arms outstretched, palms up, and shaking his head. “Well of course I am. Damn, it's like you have zero faith in me... Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam snorted and rolled his eyes and took the last few steps to embrace his brother. Dean didn’t hold back and hugged Sam just as tightly, smacking his back to accentuate his joy at their reunion. When they finally parted, they gave one final nod of acknowledgement; they’re way of saying, ‘yeah, I’m okay’ without having to actually say it.

“Dean’s return from the front lines is certainly cause for celebration, don’t you think?” John said loud enough to capture the attention of the room. “And now that Samuel is married, on the way to producing an heir, both my sons are on track to fulfil their destinies. If that isn’t a good enough reason to call an early Court, I don’t know what is.”

Sam watched John’s face transform into a grin, but he could feel no genuine happiness radiating from it. There was something else behind his King’s mask that Sam could feel instead… guilt, fear, regret… he wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it, but he knew that his father was hiding something.

“I called this early court because I wanted to discuss a few things before we got down to real business. There is to be a big celebration--”

“Celebration?” Bobby interjected from the shadows. He stepped into view and adjusted his cap nervously. “I don’t mean to barge in here, but, John… c’mon. Now is not the time--”

“Bobby, please. There has been so much blight and pain in the last few years,” John said, then paused to adjust the hint of a smile to appear more heavy than happy. “With Sam’s marriage, and Dean’s return, I think it's appropriate to let the people rejoice for once instead of mourning their loved ones who don’t come home.”

The room fell completely silent. Sam watched as his father starred down the old Maester, and could feel the tension fill the air. Bobby flicked a quick glance Sam’s way--only the briefest of looks--but Sam knew exactly what it meant.

Tread easy boy...

Sam cleared his throat. “I think a celebration is in order,” he agreed, then paused before continuing. Sam was trying to appear diplomatic and act in accordance with his father’s wishes. He didn’t feel a party of any kind was proper, but, if he could find a way to use this to his advantage, he would do what he had to. “I mean, it's not every day my brother returns in one piece. And my wedding wasn’t exactly the happiest of occasions. Now that some time has passed and (Y/N) and I are embracing our commitment, I think a party is a great idea.”

“I’m surprised at you, Sammy,” John snorted. “I thought you, of all people, would be fighting me.”

“No dad, I’m done fighting you. I am here to fulfil my duties and take on the role you need me to take on. Just like Dean did in Purgatory…”

Murmurs of agreement began to radiate from the guardsman that had gathered. Sam noticed John’s demeanor change, and could feel how rigid the King had quickly become. He knew he could leave it there, just agree with John and let it go. But something in his gut told him to push it further, twist this to his favor…

Sam grinned knowingly at John, which seemed to throw the King off even more.

“For the return of my brother. For the joining of Winchester and Crowley lineage--” Sam heard Dean audibly react to the name Crowley, but Sam didn’t chance a look back. Instead, he held John’s dark eyes and twitched another satisfied smirk. “--and for the battles we are fighting in Purgatory against Eve’s most terrifying monsters. Like my father said, it's time to raise a goblet in good cheer, instead of in mourning. So, let’s throw a feast and raise a cup of ale to ‘We, the Hunters and Protectors of Lawrence’! To all of us, those who fight and those who WILL win the fight every day that it rages on!”

The Winchester Guardsman in the room erupted into shouts and cheers just as Sam had hoped they would. The King’s grin expanded, showing off his deeply dimpled cheeks and his perfect teeth. Yet when Sam watched him, he saw nothing but contempt in his father’s eyes.

“All right, all right…” John said in an authoritative, deep voice that immediately quieted the room. “There are still matters to discuss at hand. Yes, we can celebrate, but first, we must strategize. I need to speak with Bobby and Pastor Jim. We will reconvene later to hear what Dean has brought us from the front lines.” John paused from addressing the room and turned to Sam. “Sam, for now, why don’t you take Dean to meet your lovely bride. It’s only right he meets the newest member of our family.”

Sam turned to Dean, who nodded swiftly. “I think that’s a great idea. Would love a chance to catch up with my little brother here, and his new wife. Did I hear correctly… she’s a Crowley?”

“Macleod, actually,” Sam corrected. “But yes, let’s leave the King to his business. You and I have some catching up to do.”

“Dude,” Dean rasped and swiped a smack to the back of Sam’s head. “You married a Crowley?! What the HELL were you thinking?!”

“Dean, relax. First of all, it wasn’t my idea. This was all dad,” Sam scoffed as he walked slowly through the maze of stone corridors leading to his chambers. “Trust me, I was NOT on board at first. I fought dad on this tooth and nail.”

“But yet…” Dean huffed as his arms animatedly waved in front of him, as if he was calling someone safe a home plate.

“Look…” Sam turned and made sure Dean stopped before crashing into him. “I hear you, okay? Don’t think for a second that I went along with this easily.”

“So why did you go along with it at all? He got you brainwashed?”

“No, I just realized that maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

Dean choked on whatever words he wanted to say and just stared at his little brother.

“Also,” Sam started then turned and kept moving towards his room, “She’s not a Crowley. Crowley is… Crowley. (Y/N) is Crowley’s daughter.”

“Oh, well, that makes it sooo much better,” Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed Sam’s shoulder to make him stop walking.

“Dude, stop for one second… please, explain this to me. How did this happen?”

“Dad told me it was up to me to produce an heir. Your place was on the front lines. Since I am the resident gimp and can no longer fight, my role is to make him a grandpa.” His tone oozed contempt. “Apparently him and Crowley made some sort of deal. We bind our two families by marriage, have a child, and dad gets reinforcements of Crowley’s minions at the front lines of Purgatory.”

Dean snorted a sarcastic laugh. “Right, because demon deals always work in our favor.”

Sam shrugged unsure of how to answer him. Dean was right, demon deals never ended well for the Winchesters. They had centuries of family history donning the castle walls proving that. He turned to start walking again, but once again, Dean made him stop.

Sam could see the shift of Dean’s focus was going somewhere else, so he didn’t argue. Instead, he waited for his older brother to arrive at whatever point he was trying to get too.

“Let me get this straight, because none of this makes sense. Dad wants you to produce an heir with a blood relative to the King of Hell?”

“I know, it seems insane.”

“No, what’s insane, Sam, is that you agreed to it in the first place. Why would you say yes to that? Especially since Crowley is the one who killed Jes--”

“Dean!” Sam barked, loud and with enough assertiveness to make Dean slightly recoil. “I know. Okay, I get it. Maybe it will turn out to be the worst choice I could have made. But when I agreed to it, I had a plan. I was going to kill her to get back at Crowley. Take the life of his daughter as revenge for Jess.”

“Okay… and? Apparently she’s still alive, so what’s stopping you?””

“The plan has since changed. (Y/N) isn’t who I thought she would be. Dean… she’s…”

“Oh God…” Dean buried his face in his palms. “Sammy, don’t… don’t tell me you already knocked her up.”

“No!” Sam

“Ok, good. Because the last thing I need to worry about while slaughtering vamps and ghouls is you playing house with a literal demon spawn.”

“Just meet her, okay. She’s… different.”

“Oh, you mean her eyes don’t glow red and her body isn’t filled with black smoke?”

“No, they don’t. She’s human, Dean. She’s not a demon. She’s human. Though, she’s got some serious knowledge when it comes to magic.”

“Magic? Like… magic, magic?”

Sam nodded and desperately wanted to back up his words by showing his brother how (Y/N) had healed his hip. Instead, he decided to wait. Dean would need more than that if he was to be convinced that (Y/N) was on the level.

“Man, I go away for a year and all Hell breaks loose, literally. So what is the real plan here, Sammy? Because even if the girl is legit, you agreeing with dad leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Dean, just breathe, okay? I promise you, it will all be okay.”

Once Sam left for the War Room, you laid back against the pillows and drew the blankets up to your chin. Fighting the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, you closed your eyes and couldn’t help but think about the night before, spent tangled up with your new husband in the tapestries and sheets. He was an amazing lover; from the moment he had first kissed you, until the moment you fell asleep, he attended to every part of your flesh with a gentle, yet fierce longing you didn’t know could exist.

Not one part of you wanted to want him. In fact the internal struggle that raged between your head and heart was raucous and frustrating. As you lay there with your eyes shut, your hand went to the place between your breasts where the vial of potion normally rested. It was when your hand felt nothing there but your own soft flesh, that you sat up quickly and with force. Panicked, you began to remember more details from the night before.

In the recklessness of tearing at what remained of each other’s clothing, the vial on the thin cord must have been removed and tossed aside. You had a vague memory of realizing it the night before, but you had been too punch drunk and lustful in Samuel’s arms to do much about it then.

Kicking off the covers, grabbing at the robe that lay across the back of the chair, you threw it around loosely and fell to the floor in search of the vial. As you frantically searched the room, your fears were starting to grow that Sam would find it, and you would have to explain… too much. Suddenly fear struck you that he would think you used it on him; that the night you two had spent together was contrived and manipulated as part of your plan. Truth is, that is exactly what it had been for, but there was no need for it. You and Sam found your way to each other naturally and coming to terms with the fact that you didn’t hate it, was something else entirely.

Before you could begin to process that feeling, you had to find the vial. Rooting around on the thick shag throw rug and coming up empty, you moved to under the bed, silently praying you would find it easily. Minutes were passing as if you had all the time in the world, and still the vial seemed to have disappeared. Even in the mess of clothing strewn around the room, there wasn’t a trace of it.

Another panicked thought hit... Sam would be back soon. Too much time had passed now, and you weren’t dressed. If he arrived and found you still half nude in your robe, hair a mess and frazzled, an explanation would be necessary. Nothing that you could say would sound convincing, especially with the bond you two had been forming over plotting against your fathers. Sighing in relent, you got up off the floor and went to the chest where you kept your clothing and personal effects to choose something to wear for the day.

Not too long after putting the finishing touches on yourself, you heard the rumble of the chamber door begin to open. You drew in a steadying breath and turned from your reflection in the ornate wall-hung mirror, to greet your husband. Opening your mouth to speak, you were immediately silenced when you saw that Sam wasn’t alone.

“(Y/N),” he said, a hint of a secret smile on his face as he reached out to take your hand, pulling you towards them both, “my brother has returned from Purgatory. Dean,” he stepped aside so Dean could come forward, “this is my wife, (Y/N).”

Seeing the much-storied Dean Winchester in the flesh was a shock. He must have been the reason the bells were ringing so early on a Tuesday; the joyous news of his return must be making its way through the city by now.

“Wow,” you breathed “It’s wonderful to have you home, My Lord.” You bowed your head and gave the slightest curtsy, unsure of the proper greeting, but not wanting to offend.

“Is this chick for real?” Dean asked in a semi-hushed tone while elbowing Sam in the ribs.

“Shut up,” Sam bit back and shook his head with a snort. “(Y/N), it’s okay, you can drop formalities in front of my brother. He would rather go back to the depths of Purgatory then be called My Lord.”

“I dunno, kinda has a nice ring to it,” Dean quipped, very amused with himself until he caught sight of his brother’s eye roll. “Fine,” he said, and turned his attention back to you. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N), I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, so I am sure you will have no trouble living up to the hype.” He flashed Sam another distrustful glance then looked back at you again.

This time though, you could feel the older Winchester brother’s scrutiny as it traveled down your body from your hair to your toes. He examined you quietly as if looking for the marker that would clue him into exactly who you were. Something about the way his green eyes watching you with such distrust made you nervous, as if he could see straight through you and know every thought that staggered through your mind.

“I’m happy to see you home in one piece, Dean. Sam has been very worried for your safety,” you said, trying to keep the nerves in your voice to a minimum.

Dean gave a half-hearted smile. “Well, he wouldn’t be Sammy if he wasn’t worrying about me.”

“And I suppose you worry about him the same.”

“I do. Which is why, if you try anything to hurt him, I can promise you they will never find your remai--”

“Dean!” Sam’s demeanor and tone said all his brother needed to hear.

“Alright, I get it. I don’t know you and I am already being a dick. What can I say, its who I am.”

“I would have you no other way,” you said, returning his half-assed smile. “I can promise you that I am nothing like my father. Crowley is an evil man with evil intentions, who sold me off to his enemy to be a broodmare. He thought I would be miserable, pained… angry. Yet, I take great pleasure in the fact that his plan has so far backfired, and I’ve come to find a wonderful, loving man in your brother. Sure, we had our issues, but I think we are of the same mindset.”

“Meaning?” Dean asked, crossing his arms over his chest and watching you carefully.

“Meaning… neither of us what to help fulfil whatever crap our fathers are plotting. Instead, we want to stop them. End the War. Bring everyone home.”

DEan scoffed. “End the War? Sweetheart, that war is just getting started. Nothing can end it, not even Eve’s monsters killing every last Hunter and Winchester to walk this Earth.”

“We have to try,” Sam spoke up, holding eyes with his brother, then glancing your way.

“And somehow having a kid is part of that?”

“It's what our fathers want,” you replied and shrugged. “I have no desire to be a mother. I didn’t even know my own. And, my grandmother, as much as she has taught me, wasn’t exactly a stellar role model.”

“So why the push towards family planning?”

Sam shrugged. “That’s what we are trying to figure out.”

Dean got quiet and began to slowly pace around the room. His hand thoughtfully rubbed at his mouth and down his chin. He didn’t look at you or Sam at all, but kept his focus on the floor in front of him. After a few moments, he stopped in his tracks and shook his head, as if to clear its thoughts.

“Could that be what they are doing?” he whispered as a question, but Sam wasn’t sure if it was directed to him or if Dean was talking to himself. “God I hope that’s not what she was talking about…” he trailed off, clearing not speaking to Sam now.

“Dean? What are you talking about?” Sam asked.

If Dean heard his question, he ignored it. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Can’t be… John would never…”

“Dean… dad would never, what?”

Dean’s piercing green eyes met with Sam’s then slowly made their way to you. “Sammy, I don’t… the things I heard on the battlefield… I doubt they’re true. But, still.”

“What is it, Dean?” Sam asked, both his impatience and temper starting to rise. “Tell me!”

“I think Dad and Crowley want to sacrifice your child to Eve.”

Series Tags: @theplaid-wearingmoose / @zombiewerewolfqueen / @silkiechicken / @collette04 / @katiecurls75 / @death-unbecomes-you / @colie87 / @roxytheimmortal / @klanceiscannon14 / @voltage-my2dlove / @flamencodiva / @xhannahbananax03

Sam Winchester: @buckyscrystalqueen / @unabashedsoul97

SPN (all): @wings-of-a-raven / @negans-wife / @kazosa / @deans-baby-momma / @hobby27 / @breereadsthings / @maddiepants / @sorenmarie87 / @screechingartisancashbailiff / @winchesterxfamilybusiness / @spnhollis / @unlikelygalaxyiver / @linki-locks11 / @stoneyggirl / @clarinette07 / @lefthologramdeer / @destielhoneybee / @faughnphotography / @katehuntington / @81mysteriouslyme / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @deathofmissjackson / @lauravic / @akshi8278 / @rebelminxy / @idreamofplaid / @fictionalabyss / @blackcherrywhiskey / @his-paradox / @closetspngirl

All Tag Lists are open! If you want to jump on any of these lists, send me an ask with your choice and I will happily add you!

#Sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester AU #Sam winchester x reader #Crowley's daughter #SPN AU #Gothic AU #The Pact Part 6 #The Pact

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

rosemary’s corner

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2,788

summary: There’s something up with Bucky.

warnings: Some h*ckin’ words.

a/n: This is dedicated to @johnnynunzio. I love you so, so much and I’m so proud of you.

There was something up with Bucky.

And Sam could call him paranoid all he wanted, but at the end of the day, Steve Rogers knew his best friend—goddamnit—and he knew something was going on.

Bucky had gotten into the habit of disappearing for hours on end—sometimes entire nights—without warning, only to reappear and act as though he had been in the Tower the whole time. And even though he wasn’t big on hanging out with the rest of the team before, it had gotten even worse over the past few months. Hell, when he was with the team, he spent the entire time staring at his phone.

Steve’s brows furrowed as he stepped out of the elevator. He’d spent the past four hours down in the gym, desperately trying to figure out what the hell was going on with his best friend.

But if he couldn’t figure it out, maybe FRIDAY could.

“Hey, Fri?” He called out as he shut his bedroom door.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

The heat of the water turns his skin pink as he scrubs at his hair. “Do you know where Bucky’s been going?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

When the A.I. doesn’t continue, he frowns up at the ceiling as though she was up there. “... Can you tell me where he is?”

The A.I. sounded almost sorry as she said, “I’m sorry, Captain Rogers, but Sergeant Barnes asked me to not tell anyone his whereabouts.”

“Even me?”

“Yes, even you.”

And okay, yeah, that kind of really fucking hurts. It hurts that Bucky is keeping something from him because in their hundred years or so of being alive, they’d never kept secrets from each other. Shit, Bucky had even told Steve when he first got his hands up a dame’s skirt way back in ‘34.

They told each other everything.

“Alright,” the blond said as he shut off the water. “Guess it’s time for Plan C.”

Plan C, as it turns out, requires a little more time. It means waiting until Bucky gets back to the Tower and then waiting for him to leave again.

But apparently that’s even harder than he thought it would be since trying to catch the former Winter Soldier leaving is like trying to catch a ghost.

It took him almost two weeks to finally catch him. It was a little after nine, and the rest of the team had retreated to their respective bedrooms for the night.

Steve, however, spent almost half an hour by his door, ear pressed to the wood and listening for the tell tale sound of Bucky’s door opening from across the hall.

When he finally heard the creak at precisely 9:42 PM, he makes sure to wait a few minutes before following him out. He took the stairs, bolting down each flight. He had to wait several long minutes for the elevator to catch up, watching as Bucky zipped up his jacket before heading out into the cool autumn air.

Not for the first time, he cursed his best friend’s ability to sneak through the streets of New York almost undetected. Plan A had been Bucky just telling his best friend where he was going as he should’ve done as his goddamn best friend, and if that had happened like Steve had hoped, he wouldn’t be traversing down tenth, after having to follow him through several subway rides.

He’s even more confused when he started to spot the NYU signs littering the area.

He stopped in his tracks as Bucky stepped into a familiar looking store, a string of lights glittering brightly in the window display despite the late hour.

He vaguely remembered walking past the shop with him a few weeks before, but when he’d told Bucky that they should stop in sometime, he’d immediately clammed up and shrugged, claiming that it was probably too hipstery for either of their tastes.

Which, to be fair, it was really close to the New York University campus.

Steve got a little closer, just enough to peek in through the window that had ‘Rosemary’s Corner’ emblazoned across it.

The store was the perfect picture of cozy, though it did have that hipster feel that both him and Bucky tried to avoid. Shelves full of records lined the front end of the shop, lights hung up along the tops of each one. He could just barely see what seemed to be a coffee station towards the back, a menu with titles such as ‘Pumpkin Spice Marshmallow Latte’ and ‘Blueberry Delight Cappuccino’ hung up on the wall behind it. A vintage record player in the corner was crooning out the familiar voice of Billie Holiday, just barely audible outside the shop.

And there in the back, amidst the waist high shelves, was his best friend. Steve’s eyes widened as he watched him grab a record from a cart next to him, handing it to a girl who seemed to be the only employee present. There was a flush in his cheeks, a shy smile tugging at his lips, that the blond hadn’t seen since the forties.

The girl seemed to be just as enamoured as him as she placed the record amongst the stacks. Her movements were slow, unhurried, as she took each record that Bucky offered her. She seemed so content to just be in his presence.

Bucky’s mouth moved silently and he lit up like a Christmas tree as he watched the girl erupt into giggles. Her teeth caught her lower lip as she moved to shelve yet another record, but she froze as the man’s flesh hand reached up to gently tug it, releasing it. The two of them were stuck in place, too lost in each other to think about the task at hand.

And despite the fact that anyone could walk past at any moment and see them through the window, Steve felt like he was intruding on something… private. The intimacy between the two so apparent that it sent a blush to his cheeks to have seen it. Just before he turned to leave, he saw Bucky rub the back of his neck in embarrassment, the both of them attempting to pretend that they didn’t just have a moment.

He went back the next day, when he knew that Bucky would be stuck at the Tower for at least a few more hours. He wanted to be able to talk to her in private, to maybe ask her intentions.

And yeah, it was really shady for him to go behind Bucky’s back, but he wasn’t about to just let some girl walk in and fuck with his emotions if she didn’t intend on staying.

So he made the trek up to tenth once again, though it went a lot faster now that he knew where he was going and he didn’t have to hide.

Rosemary’s Corner looked almost the exact same during daylight, though Steve wasn’t sure why he was expecting any different. The only difference is that there’s a few more patrons than just Bucky during the day all spread out through the shop.

The girl’s sitting at the cash register towards the back, flipping through a book. She looked up as the bells above the door chimed with his entrance, an easy smile gracing her features. His eyes are drawn to her shirt, recognizing it as the flannel that Bucky had been wearing the night before over his t-shirt. The sleeves were rolled in order to accommodate her—she wasn’t exactly the size of the super soldier—but she looked so cozy it was hard to imagine her ever wishing him harm. “Hi! Welcome to Rosemary’s!”

He tried to pretend as though he’s not there to interrogate her, perusing through the stacks in what he hopes is a casual and aimless manner.

“Hi.”

Steve jumped, whirling around to stare at the girl. “Hey.” The super soldier was more than a little surprised that she was able to sneak up at him—he had espionage training from Natasha fucking Romanoff. But even so, she’d somehow managed to approach him without making the slightest noise.

“You’re James’s friend, Steve,” she said, holding out her hand for him to shake as she gave him her name.

He eyed her hand warily. “How do you know me?”

Her eyebrows rose as she stared at him, reminding him a little too much of how a certain redhead would look at him when he was being particularly stupid. “It takes more than a baseball hat to fool me, Captain.”

Swallowing, he crossed his arms over his chest, going into full Captain mode. “Then I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

But she simply breezed past him, heading for a cart at the end of the aisle with a sign on it that read Don’t want it? Leave it here! Thanks!

He stood there in his spot for what seemed like ages, staring after her. Did she really just disregard him? He was Captain fucking America. No one had disregarded him like that since he was in the USO shows.

“You know, I used to come here everyday when I was a student,” she said, pushing up the sleeves of the flannel to her elbows, before nudging the cart towards the first row of stacks. “Back then, it was owned by Albert Cook. He opened it for his wife back in ‘97 because his wife, Rosemary, missed records. Everyone was using CDs at that point, and it just wasn’t the same. They added the coffee shop in ‘02.”

Steve followed her like a puppy as she reshelved the records. He wasn’t sure where she was going with all of this, but she’d made it clear that she wasn’t going to put up with him pushing her around.

“They hired me here my freshman year, but I was here even when I wasn’t working. It’s my favorite place in the entire world, and Albert and Rosemary became my home away from home. It’s not easy moving so far from home for college, but they helped me. A lot. Two years after I graduated, it became mine.” She paused, staring at the Cher record in her hand. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears and Steve could feel the sorrow rolling off of her in waves. “Albert passed and in his will… I told Rosemary that I wasn’t going to take the shop from her, that she could have it, but she insisted I take it. Apparently her and Albert had decided to put me in his will ages before he died…” Her eyes crinkled up as she laughed, “I thought their kids were going to shit themselves. They were so mad.” She shrugged as she finally put the Cher record in its place. “Rosemary didn’t really understand why they were so mad about me getting the shop when they never came in. But she moved upstate with her kids and I moved into the apartment upstairs. I still see her every week for lunch.”

“Excuse my interruption,” Steve said when he finally sensed a pause. “But why are you telling me all of this?”

She finally turned to him then, looking so open and honest that it took him aback. “You’re here to question me about James, and I get that. He’s been through a lot.”

“He’s told you?” He asked, blue eyes wide. “About all the… HYDRA stuff?” At her nod, he narrowed his eyes at her. “But he never tells anyone about—”

“Well, he tells me,” she snapped, her hands going to her hips. “I know about all the things he’s done and I don’t care. He’s the best man I’ve ever met.” The girl closed her eyes as she paused, taking in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, the storm in her eyes had settled. “I need you to know that I love James. I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt him. And while I can appreciate that he has a best friend like you—”

“You don’t like your loyalty being questioned,” Steve finished, much quieter. He felt as though he’d been put in his place, which didn’t happen often. “I… I don’t either. Not when it comes to Bucky.”

A sarcastic smile settled on her lips. “We have that in common, Captain.”

The two of them went quiet as she went back to her task, occasionally having to go to the front to ring up a customer or make a cup of coffee. At some point, Steve started helping her, handing her the records just as Bucky had been doing the night before. Customers came and went, but as it got later, it got less and less populated.

“I changed the hours a few months after I got the shop,” she mused as she glanced over at the few college kids studying at one of the tables. One of them had put on a Hozier album, the earthy songs sounding like they belonged on a record. “It’s better for college students. Gives them a place to study or just hang out late at night, and they can choose any album from the used record wall to play for free.” Her nose scrunched as she smiled. “And I’m not much of a morning person, so it gives me a reason to sleep in until noon.”

“Does he know you love him?” Steve asked suddenly, cheeks going a particular shade of pink. “Bucky, I mean.”

“Yeah, I got that,” she said, nudging him. But she was just as flushed as him. “I hope so. I haven’t exactly been subtle. But I might have to make a move soon if he doesn’t.”

He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You should. Make a move, that is.”

“He can be rather shy, can’t he?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Both of them looked up, startled, to see the man of the hour standing there in the doorway. Neither of them had heard the bells above the door as he entered.

“James,” she breathed, a fond smile painting her lips as she saw him. “You’re early tonight.”

His ocean eyes softened just a tad as they flickered over to her, but hardened juts as quickly when he turned his attention back to the other man. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you last night,” he said, apology clear in his eyes.

“Why?”

Steve flinched at the harshness of his tone, but knowing that he more than deserved it. “I was worried, Buck. You weren’t telling me where you were going, and you disappeared for so long and I was just… I was worried.”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Bucky said as he moved to stand in between his girl and his best friend. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know that.”

“Then why—”

“James,” she said, cutting him off, “He’s here because he cares. We both do.” The man searched her eyes, his metal hand gently resting on her elbow. “I’m okay. Captain America can’t scare me.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, once again feeling like an intruder. He’d never seen his best friend so taken with a girl, so... enraptured. “Don’t worry. Your girl put me in my place faster than I could blink.”

The brunet flushed, shaking his head. “She’s not—”

“I think I should go,” he said, backing towards the door. “I’ll leave you two alone. But, Buck—” He nodded towards the girl, who had slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t be afraid to bring her around the Tower. I’m sure everyone would love her.”

Bucky nodded once, his arm moving to wrap around the girl’s waist and bring her into his chest. “I will.”

As Steve stepped out into the night air, he was shocked by how late it had gotten, by just how long he’d spent in the shop. A breeze promising an early winter ruffled his hair and sent a chill through him. As he wrapped his jacket tighter around him, he took one last look at the two through the window.

The girl was pressed up against him, eyes sparkling as she stared up at Bucky. He could clearly read the words ‘I love you’ on her lips and the shock on his best friend’s face. Without a second thought, she pressed her lips to his, her fingers tangling in his hair. It took a few seconds for his brain to start working again, but when it did, his arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her in for another kiss just as she started to pull away.

Steve headed for the subway, a smirk on his lips. “You’re in good hands, jerk.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic

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fandomsonrequests · 4 years

Text

𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 5]

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: prince! park seonghwa

reader: fem! knight

word count: 2.2k+

summary: It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

a/n: part 5 here we go! i’m sorry if its taking too long, school started so i dont have much time to write as often ;^; this is kind of unedited (im using grammarly sue me sujsk) so im sorry for any errors!

taglist: @iwanttohitmyself @barcelona-sergei @minihongjoong @i-purrple-u

↞previous ♛ next↠

The Capitol was certainly different from the quaint town of Trelark.

The Capitol was… colorful to put it simply. Several people milled about the streets, bustling around and going about their daily lives. What the city folk wore was flashier and livelier than the dull brown or grey tones of the clothes the townsfolk wore. It sparked some sort of insecurity within you, making you clutch at the fabric of your pants as you look out the carriage window, seeing young women your age float through the streets in bright yellow skirts or green pleated dresses.

The streets were wider and tiled with smooth stones compared to the rocky ground that rocked the carriages up in the village of Trelark. The shops were bigger and the smell- the smell of the place was better for some reason. Delicious aromas of freshly baked bread or roasted pig wafted through the air instead of some goat or horse dung. It made your stomach rumble. You had eaten your packed lunch and shared it with your friends in the carriage that brought you over to the Capitol.

Speaking of which-

“Oh my gods, look at that dress,” Siyeon says as she presses herself against the carriage window and points to a dress in the display window of a seamstress’s shop. It had a sweetheart neckline with bell sleeves in an elegant shade of red, a transparent lace on the hem. Despite how simple it looked, you only wondered how expensive it was.

“I’d give anything to wear that.” She continues and releases a small whine as she slumps back into her seat. “I wish this Selection was for a princess instead of a knight.”

Raviv, who was beside you, laughed at the young woman across you. “Maybe next time. You never know.” He says as he picks at the loose threads of his shirt again. “You can just drop out y’know?”

“And miss out living in the palace and bring shame to my family at the same time? Uh, no thanks. I’ll do my best until I give out.”

You roll your eyes and huff in amusement at the two as they continue to banter. You loved the two a lot- you really did. Siyeon was like the sister you never had and Raviv had a special place in your heart. But you on the other hand were firm in your resolve and promised to yourself that you’d try to outdo them without having to step on them.

You saw more of the city as the carriages pulled through the cobbled streets of the Capitol. Sure it had its fair share of beauty but not every place was perfect. You caught a glimpse of some street kids, covered in dirt from head to toe, in the alleyways between houses and shops. Some of them would be begging for some alms while others just went about and played.

Suppose it couldn’t be helped- the world was cruel like that. But it still breaks your heart every time. You didn’t have much yourself but you were happy and had a roof over your head. Maybe life for the unfortunate was a lot tougher here in the Capitol.

Eventually, the carriages that came from the village of Trelark finally reached the lavish gates of the castle. There was a drawbridge, just like you imagined, but what you didn’t anticipate was the lavish gate that lay behind it.

As soon as the drawbridge lowered, a rather beautiful gate greeted your eyes. There were pillars made of stone and marble running down the sides while gold figurines of horses decorated the top. Black iron bars with gold-tipped ends that pointed up into the sky lined the space between each pillar.

But the gate was nothing compared to the palace itself.

The three of you all looked out the window, eyes gleaming and mouth agape as you gawked at the sight that beheld you. The palace was surprisingly similar to the ones described in the books- pearly and white, tall with several towers striking out from each side, buttresses that supported the building, and a large flag bearing the current family’s crews right on top of the centermost tower. The palace was huge. You couldn’t even see where the walls ended on each side.

“You know,” Raviv starts out softly. “If we were ever supposed to go through this place, I think we’d get lost.”

“No kidding,” Siyeon says, just as quiet like him. “I think I’d be starving and thirsty the minute I find my way back to the entrance.”

“Or one of the undead.” You added, and lightly kicked at Siyeon’s foot.

She then proceeded to flop down against the seat and rise with her hands in front of her, making growling noises as she imitated a zombie, lunging at the both of you. The trio laughs at the antics and pushes her back onto her seat when she pretends to take a bite of your arm.

“Oi, behave in there!” Called out the driver and patted the side of the carriage, effectively hushing you and your companions.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escapes you though. “Whoops.”

“Seonghwa there you are!” The Queen exclaims when he arrives, lapels of his clothes properly pinned and his crown sitting on top of his soft locks.

Seonghwa greets his parents who were sitting upon their thrones, awaiting the delegates that were to arrive at any moment. He kisses each of their cheeks and sat on the right side of his father’s throne, back straight and head high- just as he was taught since the age of five.

A few servants ran around the throne room, sweeping up the linoleum floors and dusting the marble columns. The velvet rug that led from the entrance up to the elevated floor that held the thrones were freshly pressed and practically spotless. The King wanted to leave a good first impression on his people.

“How many do you think there will be, father?” Seonghwa asks, looking over to the man.

The King only straightened up and looked ahead. “Many,” He replies without turning his head to his son. “They come from all parts of our kingdom. I think half of this room may be filled.”

The prince manages to hold back a sigh. Instead, he exhales through his nose and curls his fingers around the armrests of his seat. He thought it was a bit of an overkill to have all these people train just to protect him. Despite the assassin coming from a different kingdom, he thought that bringing other people from within their kingdom imposed a risk as well- you never know if there could be traitors out there.

Nevertheless, he just learned to trust his father’s decision. He knew that his father was wise and well-aware of his decisions. He just hoped this method wouldn’t backfire…

“They’re all here already your highness,” A servant announces as they enter the throne room. “There’s quite more than a handful.”

With a nod and a wave of his hand, the king tells the servant to allow the delegates to enter. The servant gives a low bow and exits the door only to return a few moments later with the young adults. Quietly, they filed into the throne room, wearing different garments that fit with the place they came from.

People from the field lands wore hard, boots dried with mud and loose-fitting clothes to help them move around. Folks near the dock wore almost similar clothing but had more loose-fitting shoes and or sandals. The delegates from the mountain had already shed off their coats as the weather in the Capitol was much warmer. And finally, the folks from the city were more well-dressed, with button-ups, well-tailored pants, and sturdy boots.

You glance around as you shuffle in with your companions near the edge of the group. You hadn’t anticipated this many people to attend. It made your stomach churn with nervousness- there was big competition here. But you weren’t taught to quit this early- you were going to push on until you give out.

Others slinked away or flinched whenever a city-dweller looked over at them. It was a bit hard not to- they just radiated some sort of energy. An aura of power to be exact.

Seonghwa scans the faces of the delegates. They were all so different- in height, background, wear, and everything else. Many looked like they were reluctant to be there but many also had this look of determination in their eyes.

There was one gaze that caught his in particular. It belonged to a woman, maybe his age, standing near the back. He could tell from her garments, specifically the coat that hung over her arm, that she lived in one of the mountain villages.

Her lips were pursed together as she observed the palace around her. There were wonder and awe in them- but as soon as her gaze landed on him and his family, they steeled into something harder, one that read that it would take more than would think to take her down.

Seonghwa is pulled out of his thoughts by his father’s voice welcoming all the participants to the palace.

“Welcome to the Capitol,” The King booms, a warm smile on his face and his arms outstretched. “I’ll keep this brief, but I’d like to thank you for coming all this way. It means a lot to me, my wife, and of course- my son.”

All eyes shift over to the prince. It wasn’t the first time many sets of eyes were trained onto him but he felt nervous this particular time. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the circumstances were different, that they weren’t looking up at him while he stood beside his father during speeches or city celebrations or whenever he had to deliver the occasional speech. Yeah, that must be it.

The young man folded an arm over his torso and bowed a perfect ninety-degree angle. It was a silent gesture of his gratefulness for their efforts, eyes glistening as if all the stars were placed into them.

The King looked to his side and gave a nod. Two men came out from behind a pillar and stood at the foot of the elevated platform that held the thrones.

The first was a tall and burly man. A long white but faded scar ran from the top of his head and across his brow, just catching the edges of his eyelids. Because of the long healed injury- part of his injured eye had a milky-blue color to it, showing that he was partially blind. HIs muscled under his pressed dress suit flexed as he gave a bow and straightened up. He was the literal embodiment of tall, dark, and strong. Despite this though, he radiated a warm and inviting energy- especially with that soft smile of his.

The second was the man most people hated. It was the nobleman that went to the town of Trelark. He wore less warm clothing but his stupid purple feather plume hat remained. His silver beard seemed extra curled today and a shit-eating smirk was plastered across his lips.

The majority of the folk that came from the mountain villages had a sour look on their face when they saw the nobleman. They tried to mask it though to avoid any offense that it could bring to the king.

“This is Byron,” The King introduces the first man. “He shall be training all of you till one of you manages to succeed as the prince’s protector. And this is Duke Hae-seong, one of my royal advisers and a Duke of the kingdom. He shall help manage you and educate you around the protocols of the palace and the kingdom.”

“Yes, that’s right.” The Queen says softly, voice warm and gentle. “It is important not to only train the body but the mind as well. The prince’s protector needs to be knowledgeable of the kingdom’s laws and what his or her rights are as a protector.”

It was a very wise move on the royal family’s part and it made sense. They didn’t want the protector to overstep any boundaries, whether intentional or not or have any abuse in power on their part.

Many delegates didn’t seem pleased to learn that Hae-seong would be tutoring them though. He was impatient and very brash- he clearly was displeased with the way the king and queen took commoners into the palace without a single thought of doubt; he was just good at hiding it.

“Ladies, please follow Mina to your quarters. Gentlemen, Sir Byron will be the one to take you to yours. I hope you don’t mind sharing with others.” The King says and gestures to the crowd gathered in front of them. “And to show our gratitude, we shall be throwing you a feast tonight to commemorate your arrival.”

This seemed to brighten up the spirits of the young delegates. Energy fills them as the adrenaline of excitement rushes through their bodies. A few of them now their heads gratefully to the royal couple while the rest showed their appreciation through bright smiles.

“I thank you all once again for going through all this trouble. Now, freshen up. You’ll have a long day tomorrow.”

The group bows down to the family before them and separate into two groups to head over to their bunkers to rest and recuperate. You look back at the royal family again, seeing them step down from the throne and head to wherever they needed to be in this gigantic castle.

This was it. The game was on- and you were determined to win it.

#ateez #ateez x reader #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #royal au #royalty au #royal ateez #royalty ateez #prince park seonghwa #prince seonghwa #prince!seonghwa #fantasy au #fantasy ateez #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #regiis #fandomsonrequests

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shirtlesssammy · 3 years

Text

9x17: Mother's Little Helper

Welcome to the other side and welcome to the Misha-directed episode! Yay!

Then:

Crowley’s got what Dean wants

Now:

A woman comes home to an ungrateful husband asking what’s for dinner. He then complains when she tells him it’s meatloaf. She then complains back with a candlestick and a severe beating. Ngl, I was rooting for the wife there.

Sam invites an overstressed Dean to help with the case. Dean wants to stay and search for anything on Abaddon.

Sam heads out alone. He gets to the sheriff’s office and starts with the routine questions. The sheriff really didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Also, they find the wife has hung herself in jail. There’s bloody writing all over the jail cell walls.

Sam checks in with Dean. He’s not very chatty. He’s also reliving a highlight reel of the Mark in his mind.

A young man accepts a ride from a passing van.

The kid knows the driver though, so it’s all good. Well, until the van lights up and we hear screams.

The kid, Bill, later wanders into a diner that Sam’s enjoying dinner at, and starts devouring leftover food on the counter. Billy snaps at the waitress, and Sam defends her. He then knocks over a glass, and stabs the poor waitress through the hand. Sam knocks him out.

The boy ends up in the jail, where there are plenty of other normal people, enjoying a little downtime.

Sam splashes holy water on Billy, and asks what he is. “Clear,” he responds. “Of everything.”

Sam calls Dean and during their conversation, realizes the people in this town are acting like he did when he was soulless (well, Sam, not quite. You didn’t randomly kill people that pissed you off. Note to future me: Write a comparison post about how Sam at his core is different from others without a soul.) Sam asks for Dean help, but Dean’s got to keep researching.

Dean ends their call and Crowley pops up to say hi.

Sm hears a woman arguing with the local law enforcement about demons. (I love that Jenny O’Hara is in Supernatural. She’s in EVERYTHING so I guess it only makes sense.) Sam sits down to talk with Julia, and learns more about her experience with demons.

She’s confused why he’s willing to listen. He tells her that he’s more open minded than most. She guesses that he’s a Men of Letters. They came to her town in 1958.

Flashback Alert

Julia, a nun in 1958, answers the door of her convent. Henry Winchester and Josie Sands are there to greet her with a letter.

Dean meanwhile, plays a game of pool alone while Crowley picks his brain about the blade, and what it was like to kill Magnus.

For Excellent Directing Science:

Crowley thinks Dean is scared. Dean doesn’t refute him.

Julia continues her story. Henry and Josie were there investigating a murder-suicide of sorts. One of the nuns killed two people before jumping from the church bell tower. They speak with the Mother Superior, and they are allowed to roam the abbey in their investigation. Julia is their guide and takes them to the nun’s quarters.

While walking, Josie and Henry talk and complain about the tasks they have to do before being fully initiated into the Men of Letters.

They find the nun’s room covered in washed away blood and an etched in symbol that Josie recognizes as knights of hell.

Julia hears a noise later that night and finds a man with black eyes in a habit dragging someone up the stairs. She turns to run and gets punched by another fake nun.

She wakes up tied to a chair, along with other victims. As other victims are removed from the room one by one, Julia weeps. Suddenly, Josie and Henry burst in with exorcism spells and holy water blazing. The demons inhabiting the nuns smoke out, but Mother Superior walks in. She’s impervious to Henry’s exorcism and intrigued to learn that they’re Men of Letters. She decides to possess Henry in order to infiltrate the Men of Letters. Josie begs her to stop, and offers up herself instead. She loves Henry in a terrible, unrequited fashion. The demon introduces herself as Abaddon, the Knight of Hell. She possesses Josie.

While Abaddon decides to head off to infiltrate and destroy the Men of Letters, she leaves the other demon nun behind to continue their evil work.

Sam’s intrigued by this Abandon connection, and tries to figure out what she was up to. He looks at a security camera shot of the nunnery van, and decides to investigate. Julia tells him that it’s been closed for years. Perfect for a shadowy demon enterprise, then!

Dean, meanwhile, sidles up to the bar with Crowley. He’s firmly in denial about the Mark, but Crowley has a clear idea of who he thinks Dean is - “a chip off the old Mark of Cain.”

Crowley insists that they’re in the fight against Abandon together, and the sooner that Dean embraces his true Cain-adjacent nature, the better. He leaves Dean to brood at the bar, clasp the Mark of Cain through his jacket, and enjoy bitter flashbacks.

Dean spots another flanneled individual at the bar. He’s fondling a rosary and sporting a large hunting knife. As Crowley heads to the powder room, the guy follows. Dean manages to stop him just before he heads into the men’s room. “You’re packing a knife to a demon fight and you don’t stand a chance,” Dean tells him.

Dean warns the guy that when Crowley’s done killing him, then he’ll go after his family, friends, and entire life. Adequately warned, the guy sheaths his knife and heads out of the bar. Dean orders Crowley to clear out of the bathroom, and they reconvene outside. Crowley tells Dean he was enjoying a shot of sweet, sweet human blood (and emotions) in the bathroom…but that he recognizes the signs of addiction in Dean as well. Specifically, Crowley recognizes the itch of longing for the First Blade in Dean. Dean insists that he’s ready to take down Abaddon no matter what, and then he takes off. Once Dean leaves, the “hunter” in the bar emerges to talk to Crowley. It turns out he was a test to see if Dean would save Crowley’s life. “He’s ready,” Crowley says, and smiles.

Sam pulls up outside of the old convent. It’s run down and cluttered, but the van is parked outside. He finds sparkling jars lined up on a shelf.

The van driver from earlier tries to accost Sam, but Sam makes quick work of him. Unfortunately for Sam, the old nun from earlier hurls him across the room. She looks at the sparkling jars and calls them souls - if the jars break those souls are going to fly right back to their bodies. Sam recognizes her from Julia’s story - she’s still a minion of Abaddon after all these years.

Agnes villain-speeches Abaddon’s big plan to Sam: they’re harvesting souls and turning them into demons so they can win Hell’s crown. Abaddon has soul harvesters everywhere. She tries to harvest Sam, but Sam pulls out his cell phone and starts playing a recording of an exorcism. She drags herself to the phone and smashes it before she smokes out, only to be stabbed moments later by the demon-killing knife.

Sam frees the souls.

The souls zip out like Tinkerbell, and head for the people locked up in prison. Remorse and horror overtake them. I continue to insist that we need a team of trained, dedicated counselors for victims of supernatural trauma.

Sam and Julia catch up after the case. He asks her why she didn’t warn Henry about Abaddon. Julia flashes back to Abaddon personally threatening her and warning her to stay quiet. She left the order, overwhelmed with shame. Sam tells her that all she told him has saved people.

We flash back one more time to Henry and Abaddon back in the car and ready to head home. Henry remains passionate about the Men of Letters cause. And Josie? Josie feels like “a whole new person.” Dun dun DUN

When Sam arrives back at the bunker, Dean’s back to research.

They exchange short updates before Sam tells Dean that he’s re-evaluated his position. Abaddon IS priority number one. She’s creating an army, and must be stopped.

These Quotes Sparkle Like Souls:

Maybe everyone has a different reaction to losing their soul

Unless Abaddon likes 10-cent wings, stale beer, and the clap, I doubt that she's here

I prayed and prayed, but God didn't answer my prayers. Henry and Josie did

Nothing like Cain? What's in that bottle? Delusion?

I’m going to go water the lily. Care to cross streams?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 9x17 #mother's little helper #crowley #abaddon #henry winchester #josie sands #supernatural season 9 #spn rewatch

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 4 years

Text

Daylight | Edward Cullen x Stark!OC

Chapter 2 | Invisible String

"You gotta step into the daylight and let it go"

Summary: Delphina Stark, to be frank, is tired. After the events of the Accords are done and half of the Avengers are now considered fugitives, she moves from bustling New York to live with her mom in Forks, Washington. Wielding a sarcastic attitude and crippling self-deprecating humor, she somehow gets wrapped up in the supernatural world.

Word Count: ~3k

Note: Click here for the Masterlist for this series ♡ || Link for my tag list in my Bio ♡

“So, how are you enjoying the school so far?” The voice on the other side of the phone trickles into Delphina’s ear. It’s honey-sweet and wrapped with a warmth that could only belong to Pepper Potts, quelling the homesickness that’s been crescendoing since she stepped on the plane. It’s lunch period and instead of sitting at one of the tables, getting claustrophobic from everyone staring at her like it’s the circus and she’s the newest act, Delphina opted to call a few people, Pepper being at the top of that list.

“Oh you know, I’ve already texted my mom on five separate occasions begging to be home schooled.” Delphina says.

“And?”

“And I received a veto all five times,” Delphina says, a small smile on her lips. Laughter trickles from the speaker into her ears, bringing a smile to Delphina’s face. She can perfectly imagine Pepper’s face right now. The way her face scrunches up, perfectly straight posture bent over slightly, and the small lines that form around her eyes when she smiles. And instead of soothing her homesickness, it ignites it, like a flickering flame being doused in oil. The easy banter and relaxed feeling another reminder of how much she misses New York.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Pepper trails off, her voice raising an octave, the statement sounding more like a question.

“Oh, I’m not concerned. When she gets home from work I’m going to ambush her with a PowerPoint presentation and everything.” Delphina says, breathing out a laugh at her own joke. “But in reality, it’s not… the worst, I guess. No one has tried to kill me yet, so there’s that.”

“That’s good, and hopefully the bare minimum for your expectations.”

“Don’t worry Peps, my standards are always low, keeps me from being disappointed in anything,” she says. Turning around and glancing at the clock, it reads 12:45, fifteen minutes until lunch ends and class begins.

“I’ve got to go, my next class starts soon. I’ll talk to you later and tell dad that my plans for overthrowing the patriarchy are currently in phase one. Love you!” she says, walking towards the cafeteria entrance, bag swinging with each step and tapping against her side.

“Will do. I love you too.” Pepper says, laughter lacing each word. And with that, the line goes silent as the call disconnects. With a sigh, Delphina pulls the phone away from her ear and back into her pocket. Opening the door, the loud talking assaults her ears, quickly overcoming the semi-peace that covers the outside like a thick wool blanket.

To her left, there’s a table of obnoxiously attractive people, and hidden in the midst of them is the guy from her Biology class. There’s three guys and two girls, all wearing nice clothes with perfectly styled hair. Matching amber eyes pin on her like a cat pouncing on a mouse, none of them so much as blinking when Delphina meets their gazes.

“Family genes are weird,” she mutters to herself, snapping her gaze away and continuing forward, towards the loudest table in the room, where Bella and all her friends sit at. But before she gets too far away, Delphina swears she hears someone chuckle from the other table. She returns her attention to them, seeing the guy from Biology smirking as he looks at Delphina, amusement dancing in his eyes. She flashes him a quick smile, taking notice of the scowl the blonde woman presents in return.

“New York, New York! How gracious of you to well… grace us with your presence.” Mike calls out upon noticing her.

“I have a name you know,” she mutters, pulling out the chair by Bella with more force than necessary.

“I know, but it’s kind of hard to remember,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck with his brows furrowed.

“It’s Delphina, Mike, not that hard.” Angela pipes up, flashing a quick grin towards Delphina, which she quickly returns.

“Whatever doesn’t matter. Back to what I was originally going to say, how you liking Forks so far?” he questions, moving from his seat across the table so he is standing by Delphina.

“It’s cold,” she grumbles, not meeting his gaze as she pulls out her phone.

“W - yeah. Look, I know we’re not big city New York --” Delphina hums in agreement. “But I’d say we’re alright.” he finishes.

“How long did you practice that one in front of the mirror?” Delphina asks after a moment, moving her eyes from her screen to meet Mike’s. He promptly begins stuttering, face heating up rapidly that longer Delphina stares at him.

“I’d say about 20 minutes, heard him in the bathroom practicing everything he was going to say,” a guy teases, moving behind Delphina like that air. She turns to see Tyler, smirking at Mike before he turns to Delphina, throwing her a wink. And as quickly as he appeared, he’s gone, Mike nearly falling out of his chair as he chases after Tyler.

“Get back here, Tyler!” he yells, nearly tripping at least a dozen times, Tyler just laughs as he runs, effortlessly avoiding Mike. “Not cool, man. Not cool!’

Delphina raises a single brow, her face void of any amusement as they run through the room, Mike screaming like a banshee and Tyler cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West.

“But I do have a question.” she turns her attention to the rest of the table, mainly focusing on Jessica, since she seems to be in the center of all the gossip. “Who are they?” she nods her head in the general direction of the group of gorgeous people. From the way Jessica’s face lights up and a giddy smile overtakes her face, Delphina knows Jessica is the right person to ask.

“Those are the Cullens. Their dad, Dr. Cullen, and his wife Esme adopted them. The two blondes are Jasper and Rosalie Hale, they’re twins. The big guy by Rosalie is Emmett. They like...a thing.” This causes Delphina to raise a brow, but she doesn’t interject. “The other girl is Alice, she’s kinda weird, her and Jasper are a thing. And then lastly there’s Edward, incredibly single and gorgeous, but apparently too good for anyone here.” she finishes, her tone bitter like espresso at that end.

“Cool,” Delphina says, nodding her head and then focusing on her phone again. “So if only two of them are blood-related, why do they all look alike?”

Jessica opens her mouth and then closes it again, like a fish fresh out of water she’s squirming from uncertainly. Before anyone else can say anything, however, Eric interrupts them, claiming the chair between Angela and Delphina.

“Hate to interrupt, but Delphina, I’ve been dying to talk to you all day. I don’t want to spend this precious time on the Cullens. As you probably already know, I’m with the school newspaper, and as the new student - no - as the new student and daughter of Tony Stark you’re the feature, which means I need dirt.” he says, looking at Delphina with puppy dog eyes and a hopeful smile.

“If you need dirt, there’s some outside,” she replies, pointing her perfectly manicured finger towards the building exit.

“You know that’s not what I meant. We can delve into whatever you want: favorite color, check; childhood trauma, also check. I mean, you were in Stark Tower when Loki attacked in 2011 weren’t you? Come on, Del, you’ve got to give me something-- anything, please!” Eric pleads, holding his hands into a prayer symbol.

“Eric, I really don’t think she wants to be on the paper,” Bella speaks up, cutting him off before he can continue talking.

“Yeah, not really my thing. Me and the press don’t get along.” Delphina mutters, checking the time.

12:56.

“What does that even mean?” Jessica asks, taking a bite out of her salad.

“It means, I spent most of my time in New York with Natasha Romanoff.” Delphina says as she shoves her phone in her pants pocket and stands up from her seat.

“Black Widow!?” Eric exclaims, eye lighting up with excitement. Delphina nods her head, grabbing her backpack, throwing its strap over her shoulder

“And if you remember, a few years ago, she told the media and news to kiss her ass. Take that as you will.” And with that she walks away from the table, a smirk on her lips.

“Oh, and it’s pink, but only in pastel,” Delphina calls behind her, long out of hearing range before anyone has a chance to reply.

o0o0o0o

The classroom is relatively empty when Delphina manages to slip in. The teacher, a middle-aged woman with graying brown hair and a pallid complexion is sitting at a desk, intently focusing on some papers. A few students litter the room, sitting at tables that fit two people per desk, making idle chat before the bell rings to signify the start of class. Eyes flicker immediately to the guy from her Biology class with the messy copper hair and honey eyes. He’s sat in the farthest corner, not looking at anyone as he focuses on his notebook.

Delphina approaches the teacher’s desk, gaining the woman, Mrs. Davis’ attention. She glances up at Delphina and then back to the paper in her bony fingers, and with lightning-fast speed, back up to Delphina. She clumsily stands from her chair, nearly knocking over her desk in the process. She thrusts her out towards Delphina, a nervous smile pulling at her lips that are painted with bright coral lipstick.

“You must be Delphina Stark, welcome to History II, I’m your teacher Mrs. Davis, but I think you already knew that.” she chuckles nervously. Delphina slowly takes her hand, giving it a quick shake before dropping it.

“That’s me,” she mutters, handing the teacher the paper she needs signing. She snatches the paper from her hands, Mrs. Davis vigorously signing it, handing it paper a second later

“You’ll be down there, by Edward.” with a quick nod, Delphina turns to go to her chair. She quickly reaches the desk and sits down, tossing her bag on the ground beside her. She turns to look at Edward, who is still intently focusing on his notebook.

“Looks like I can’t get away from you. Or is it the other way around?” A moment of silence passes. A small sigh leaves her mouth as she begins mindlessly scrolling through her phone, more students filtering into the room.

Ring.

The bell pierces through all the noise, indicating that class has officially begun. Delphina slides her phone into her pocket, attempting to appear interested.

“Sit down, Jeremy.” Mrs. Davis scolds one of the rowdy students in the room, a football player she’s seen hanging around school. Mrs. Davis moves from behind her desk towards the center of the room. “Today, we’ll be covering World War II, but before we jump into today’s lesson, we have a new student today.” Mrs. Davis says, pointing back towards where Delphina is sitting. “Delphina Stark.” All at once, everyone in the class turns to look at Delphina, whispering to one another as their eyes lock on her.

She offers a pathetic wave, sinking into her chair, in hopes that the floor would swallow her whole. And whatever god is out there seems to have at least a small amount of empathy, because a moment later, everyone looks back at the teacher.

“Since we are starting a new chapter, that also means a new assignment.” a few of the students groan, but Mrs. Davis pays them no mind. “Turn to the person at the table next to you, get a good look at them, because that is your partner for this coming project on World War II. This assignment counts for half of your semester grade, so I recommend you make the best with what you have. We’ll be going over the specifics tomorrow, but today turn to Chapter 23 in your book and start chatting with your partners.” Mrs. Davis says, finishing her announcement and moving back to her desk.

Delphina flips open her book to Chapter 23 and turns to Edward. His gaze is already transfixed on her, no book in front of him, just a notebook and pen.

“Mind if we share?” he asks, voice smooth like honey and as sweet as a mid summer strawberry, his lips pulling into a crooked grin.

“Oh, now he wants to talk to me.” Raising a perfectly shaped brow at him, her eyes narrow slightly. “But sure, what’s mine is… well still mine, but I’ll let you read it too.” Hand on the side of the book, she pushes it closer to him. A faint chuckle leaves his mouth, the sound like soft bells ringing in Delphina’s ears. And she hates how much she wants to hear it again, and again, and again.

“I'd like to apologize, actually, for how I acted earlier. It was rude of me to ignore you like that,” he says.

“Please, I lived in the same building as Loki at one point. I don’t think anyone could top that maniac,” she says, a sly smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. He breathes out a laugh, the quiet flick of the thin paper clashing with the melodic sound.

“But I accept your apology.”

“Didn’t he attack New York?” Edward asks, eyes solely on Delphina, paying no mind to the book they should be reading.

“Oh yeah, I swear my mom nearly killed my dad when Loki attacked Stark Towers. It was kind of funny actually.” After pausing for a moment, she opens her mouth again. “Well, after I got over the trauma of the whole building almost collapsing on top of me, of course.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, the grin on his face growing ever so slightly and Delphina’s heart nearly stops in that moment

‘Keep it together, you idiot.’

“You never did introduce yourself,” the teasing tone in her voice is the perfect match to the glint of mischief in her eyes. She nudges him lightly with her elbow, feeling nothing but skin that’s like cold marble and chilling to the bone.

“Apologies, I’m Edward Cullen.”

“Delphina Stark, but I’m sure you already knew that,” she says, rolling her eyes with an exasperated sigh.

“There has been talk around the school.” He reflects the smirk on her face like a mirror.

“Great, love that for me so much.”

“You don’t like the attention?” he asks, the laugh in his voice betraying that he already knows the answer.

“No, despite what people think, us Starks aren’t vying for attention everywhere we go,” she mutters, glancing down at the page for a split second, if only to say she did look at their chapter.

“So why move to a town as small as Forks, where everyone is going to talk?” he asks.

Flick, another page turns, nearly tearing from the speed.

“Well, it wasn’t my first choice, but my mom lives here, so here I am.” Anxiety creeps into her system, increasing each second that Edward continues to look at her, flashes of sitting in the Compound surrounded by deafening silence overwhelming, beating against her like a baseball bat hits a ball in the Big Leagues.

“Well, let me be the first to formally welcome you to Forks.” The words are playful and light, and Delphina can’t help but lean into them, falling deeper and deeper into the haze hanging over her each time he opens his mouth. She smiles at him, pushing away the Avengers and just focusing on the sound of his laugh and the intoxicating smell of his cologne, a woody scent that feels like the best parts of nature.

“Well, you’ve already been beat there, but thank you.”

“I couldn’t help but notice that Mike Newton has taken an interest in you.” he says after a moment, containing his laughter long enough to speak smoothly. Delphina scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, wish he wouldn’t. He might be nice, or whatever, but I have a strict ‘no dating anyone that calls me a nickname based solely on where I moved from’ policy.”

“That’s oddly specific,” Edward says. Delphina just shrugs, a smirk pulling on her lips.

“But effective.”

“Don’t you want to make friends?” he asks, moving his eyes away from Delphina for a second to look around the room, the other students too engrossed in their own conversations to notice them.

“I don’t need friends, they disappoint me,” Delphina says without a moment of hesitation, quoting the iconic Vine like she’s drinking water or breathing air.

For a moment it brings her back to the Compound, before everything with Ultron happened, setting the scene for the Accords. Delphina would make obscure references to Vines or memes that were popular at the time, most of the Avengers wouldn’t understand them, Thor least of all. But he laughed at every single one anyways. Steve would shake his head and mutter something about kids these days, only giving Delphina more ammo to tease him with. As soon as the memories enter her mind, weaving through every thought until it’s all she can think about, she banishes them, refusing to fall into that melancholy.

Then, Edward laughs, not a breathy sound or a small chuckle that Delphina nearly misses, it’s not booming like Thor’s, the kind of noise you make when you don’t understand a joke. But a loud one, a genuine one that leaves his eyes looking like small crescent moons, lighting up Delphina’s dark skies. And she doesn’t think what she said is that funny, nor her wittiest line ever, but maybe it’ll become her one liner for the next lifetime, using it at every opportunity. If only to hear Edward laugh like that again.

She places her elbow on the desk, leaning her chin against it as a starry smile forms on her face, memorizing everything about this moment, the small crinkles around his eyes, the way his eyes shine, and the bright smile on his face. If only to remember back on it late at night when she inevitably has trouble sleeping.

“Should I then assume that means you wouldn’t like to be friends?”

“I can have one.”

o0o0o0o

Tags:

@stuckupstucky

#Edward Cullen x reader #Edward Cullen imagine #edward cullen #edward cullen fanfic #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #twilight one shot #twilight #cullen clan #Avengers #stark!reader #stark!daughter #stark!oc #Edward Cullen x Stark!OC #pre infinity war #post civil war

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cxmetery-gates · 3 years

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER TWO: FOR THE FIRST TIME

SUMMARY: Lynn meets the attractive English teacher, Mr. Tom Hiddleston. WORD COUNT: 3.1k NOTE: it’s 3:00 am but I don’t have a sleep schedule. Enjoy! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

INSIDE IS HAVOC.

For some idiotic reason, most students somehow forget what classes they signed up for three months ago or lost their schedules (I still wonder how that happens) and thus, the front office is a mess of students asking for theirs, the lines bleeding out into the hall. Given this, getting around to head to the commons will be a mission in and of itself. I'm not hating on all of them. As a freshman I was in the same place, my shaky hands and nervously stuttering voice mirroring the kids that smell brand new. Hopefully, to avoid this debacle again, they'll write the classes down. I guarantee the already exhausted looking receptionists would agree.

I almost want to tell the small, thin girl who wrings her hands 'good luck' but I guarantee she'd faint by the time I open my mouth. Instead, Ellie and I keep walking past the crowd. Poor souls.

It takes a minute or so to reach the commons, the booming echoes of chatting teenagers on their first day back is a sound like no other. The voices create a paved path any newcomer could easily follow. It dawns on me now that this will be the last time I'll hear this sound. I solemnly smile.

"I'm telling you, Dunmer is the better race."

"Only an idiot would spew such ignorant bullshit! Everyone knows Khajiit are the superior race!"

"Says the guy who could pass as a furry."

My eyebrows raise once the familiar voices are heard. Of course, they sit alone and look as normal as ever. My heart dips into my stomach when one of the two glances up and bashfully raises a hand to wave. In his awkward state, his hand barely moves.

Ellie is the first to speak. "What are you guys fighting about now?"

The boy with the long black hair speaks first. "Dumbass over here thinks Dark Elves are the best characters in Skyrim." Gabriel Ahoka is one of the oldest friends I have and if there's anything I've learned from him, it's that he's right the majority of the time. Oh, and he has beautiful hair.

"Because I'm right!" I take a seat next to the self-proclaimed judge. His name is River Adams, and I think I've been in love with him since he told me I reminded him of Hermione Granger back in the fourth grade. I smile in his direction then tuck some hair behind my ear. A nervous twitch that doesn't get past Ellie's ever watchful eyes. I refuse to acknowledge her small smirk. Instead, we both join in on the two dorks' conversation.

Ellie rolls her big brown eyes at them. "I don't see what the fuss is about. You guys take your games too seriously."

Both River and Gabriel audibly gasp at her comment.

"Fine," Gabriel huffs looking in my direction. "What about you, Lynn-ykinz?"

I don't visibly react to his nickname. It's something I've been called for years now. Though I'd like to agree with River, it's something I can't do. "Dunmers—"

"Ha!"

"— are for pussies."

"Ha!" This laugh comes from the boy sitting across from me. Beside me, River makes a small "oh" and lowers his raised fists, his hooray coming to a short and final end. I chuckle at his reaction as I pass Gabriel a solid high five.

"What are your guys' schedules?" River asks a tiny bit of gloom and annoyance coating his words.

Fortunately, most of us are in similar classes and only have to be here for a little over half the day. Due to all of us sticking to the scheduling plan, we all were able to get almost all our required course and electives done. Instead of having seven classes in one day, we all have five. By the time lunch rolls around, we're free the rest of the afternoon, meaning much longer DND matches with the nerds and more gossip and jam times with the only other female in our group.

"So meet up at the library for lunch?" I confirm once more as the morning bell rings, signally to all the student and staff that the first day is about to begin. The three people around me reply in agreement, and we head out. For the first hour of the day as well as the last, we're in different places. I'm not sure where the others are going, but I begin my journey to the library, one of my all-time favorite places.

I walk through the doors and slide over the counter, careful not to be seen but not careful enough. I plop in my seat at the front desk as someone walks up behind me.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you to go through the gate. It's literally five feet away, Lynn!" I send a humored smile to the woman walking behind me, a rather large stack of books in her arms.

I stand up and begin taking ones off the top. "Five feet of unnecessary effort, in my opinion."

"And playing parkour in the library is?" Mrs. Gibbons says, deadpanning.

"To each their own."

She sighs but then laughs. "How was your summer, kid?"

"Pretty decent." I now have half the stack in my arms, and I follow behind her. "My mom and I went to Arizona for a few days and then Seattle for a week. We didn't have much time, but we drove through somewhere in Canada on the way back just because."

Mrs. Gibbons sets the books down on a cart where there are a couple of rows on the bottom already filled. Taking her lead, I lower my stack to the opposite side and begin placing them side by side. I presume these are outdated and to be sold or given away. "What's in Arizona and Seattle?"

A smile hits my face immediately. "There's a college in Flagstaff with a great writing program. I went on a day trip around the campus. And Seattle is just someplace we wanted to visit."

"That's so good to hear, hon! Are you considering?"

I lean back against the counter right behind me as my mentor continues to shelve books. "It's a little far."

Turning to face me, Mrs. Gibbons send me a confused stare. "I thought you wanted to get away from this god-forsaken state?"

She's right. All I've wanted since my father left was to get out of Missouri (or Misery, if anyone's asking). My mom and I left Maine a long time ago go escape unimaginable horrors, but I wasn't expecting those nightmares to follow me here. The move was negligent in getting us away from memories a selfish prick poisoned and to start new somewhere far away, where no one knows me as the girl with a deadbeat dad. In this small town, everyone knows everything. I'd like to escape, to be a complete stranger to everyone.

But Arizona is a couple of thousand miles away from the place I grew up in, my home. I feel incredibly guilty about considering a college so far away from the woman who has taken care of me on her own since I entered elementary school, who has taught me that voicing my opinion and being honest is valued more than timidity and who told me that no man should ever keep a thumb on me. The other influencers in my life are also staying around here. Ellie has been accepted in a very pretentious private school for the Fine Arts a couple of cities over while River and Gabe are thinking about community college before making the jump into university. While solitude and adventures are what I crave, everyone who keeps my sanity in control is here.

I sigh, crossing my arms. "I do, but... I'm just not sure what I really want. Like, I would kill to get out of here, but what if everywhere is worse?"

"Trust me; there's nowhere worse than southwest Missouri, hon."

Again, she has a point.

I hum in response. There a brief moment of silence as we shelve old, dusty books. "So how was your summer?"

Mrs. Gibbons smile kindly, fawning over memories I doubt. "Richie took two weeks off, and we went Fiji. It was so beautiful. The water is clear, the people are wonderful, and the food– oh my God, the food." I secretly have a small thing for Richard Gibbons, or, as his wife calls him, Richie. This "thing" isn't a crush or infatuation by any means, but when he walks into the library on random occasions, he has a natural gift to swoon anyone he encounters. I've unfortunately fallen victim to his charisma a few times. He's an image of the wealthy 1930's businessman with modern values and beliefs weaved in his fine suits. Mr. Gibbons might be my mother's age, or possibly older, but I have to say, Mrs. Gibbons is quite the lucky woman.

I chuckle at her. "I'm sometimes surprised you haven't filed for early retirement."

"Richie makes quite the cash, but how and I supposed to entertain myself when he's gone ten hours a day and then for weeks on end?" Mrs. Gibbons pauses and looks around her library, then back to me. The growing crows feet wrinkle into a smile. "And besides, I can't leave my favorite kids behind, now can I?"

"I guess you can't," I reply.

Ten minutes later, I'm back at my desk. Well, technically mine, Mrs. Gibbons, and the other kid who helps out during school hours. I've never met them, so I'm not sure who exactly they are. Anyway, the "desk" is a long bar that has a foot-high wall that stretches all the way down to the ends, creating a divider between my computer and a student or faculty member. The top of this divider is flat, forming a plane in which books or arms can be set on. Most of the time, books scatter the top, but since it's the first day, the library is not only spotlessly clean but deadly empty.

That is until someone catches my attention. Sitting at the far side of the desk, I'm able to see who is coming a mile before he steps through the open library doors. This time was no different.

With long, lean legs and a towering height walks in none other than Mr. Tom Hiddleston.

Easily being the hottest teacher of all time, I feel a blush beginning to creep up my cheeks just at the mere sight of him. Apart from his 6'2 figure, he sports tame yet still curly reddish-brown hair, divine enough for the gods, if he isn't one already. Mr. Hiddleston's cheekbones and jawline remind me of razors, which I would feel honored to be cut by. However, his eyes are a color I can't pick out. Because I've never been in close proximity, my guess, from my distance, is green, or maybe blue. The ambiguity makes him all the more interesting. I wonder if he has some long-distance vibe because as soon as I look up to see him, Mrs. Gibbons is right out front— and missing her cardigan. I raise my brows at her from the swivel chair, but her eyes are focused down and away from me. Elbowing her slightly, I nod once, doing a run over of her exposed arms and a little cleavage. Jokingly, she swats my arms and blushes scarlet. I begin to laugh, somehow holding most in when Mr. Hiddleston walks in.

"Hello, Ruby," he smiles softly. As if he wasn't attractive enough, the man has a damn British accent. It's almost as if he's trying to stick out among the hicks. "It's good to see you. How was your summer, darling?"

If her fingers weren't wrapped around the edge of the desk, I guarantee she would have fallen over. Honestly, I would have done the same. "Absolutely marvelous! Fiji is a beautiful place. I imagine you would like it there."

I make the snarky note that she left her husband out of the conversation. Thinking about it, I try to glance over at her left hand to check if anything is missing.

Zoning out the best I could, I file through the library's emails and begin writing down books teachers are requesting. Like usual, the freshmen English teachers ask for The Great Gatsby, and the sophomore teachers need 1984. Due to being taught-in-class books, I scoot back in my chair to make a beeline to the back room and take the note with me, the sticky top staying attached to my fingertips.

"Oh, Lynn?" I hear Mrs. Gibbons call out.

I just entered the back room, so I comically poked my head out. "You called?"

I seem to humor both parties, a smile etched on their face. "Could you get the copies of Of Mice and Men?" My vision glances over to the teacher behind the desk for a short moment. His tall frame leans on the counter, arms crossed on the platform, apparently indicating familiarity and comfort in the room. I catch his stare. I realize now his eyes are in fact blue.

Nodding, I duck back into the room, setting my sticky note to the side. During the time I have to gather the fifteen or so books, I allow my reddening cheeks to cool off by taking long breaths. "Don't be weird, Lynn," I whisper to myself, extending my arms out towards the collection of novels. "He's just a hot teacher. Calm yourself."

Finishing the stack, I wrap my arms around the tower, huffing as I do. I carefully whisk myself towards the open door, making a mental note to go back to my list.

Mrs. Gibbons and Mr. Hiddleston chat among themselves not too far from where I left. Now sitting in her swivel chair, typing away feverishly on her computer, and keeping a conversation going, the librarian doesn't notice my return, though the man across does. He nods in my direction. The simplest gesture is somehow insanely attractive. Mrs. Gibbons looks over her shoulder, sending me a smirk. "Oh, there you are! Thought I lost you."

I fake a small laugh. "I'm surprised I didn't; it's quite the mess back there," I tease, waddling over to the counter. "Where would you like 'em, boss?" I'm not sure who I would refer to, glancing once at Mr. Hiddleston, to Mrs. Gibbons, then back to the stack in my arms.

"Would you mind escorting me to my classroom? I tend to be clumsy at times." With a warm smile, Mr. Hiddleston glances down to Mrs. Gibbons, awaiting her approval.

At that moment, I'm not sure if I would love or hate to go. On the one hand, I get to spend time with Mr. Hiddleston, every horny teenager's dream. On the other, I'm alone with Mr. Hiddleston, someone I've never had a conversation with let alone a 'hello' until minutes ago. Knowing my luck, I will somehow embarrass myself in front of him. It wouldn't be the end of the world since I don't have any of his classes nor do I have classes near his, but God I would feel like a fool for the rest of my life.

But, hey, he's something pretty to look at.

"Yeah, I don't mind. Is that okay, Mrs. Gibbons? I promise I won't bail on you," I say.

The librarian nods her head, fixing her glasses. "Of course, go right ahead! There isn't much to do now anyway. Just make sure you're back before the bell rings."

"Don't worry, Ruby. I won't keep her long," Mr. Hiddleston reassures.

I wouldn't be opposed if you did, I think to myself. The comment makes me blush, even going to my ears. Some reasons how I could be kept late quickly flash by and I find myself wishing I had not taken Mr. Hiddleston's offer. With my skin still burning, I make my way around the front desk as he follows me on the other side. The gate is shut, and due to my arms being preoccupied, I realized I might have to swing it using my hip, nothing too abnormal. I helped out Mrs. Gibbons last year and would do the same thing when my arms were full. However, Mr. Hiddleston was not accustomed to my way of opening the gate. Just as I go to butt it, Mr. Hiddleston reaches out. In an awkward exchange, Mr. Hiddleston's hand, which was aiming to wrap around the gate, collides on my hip instead.

It's nothing terribly exciting but enough to get a gasp and a jealous exchange from Ellie, and damn right I'll take that.

He pauses barely a second before quickly retracting his arm to his side. A blush of the same shade of scarlet cover our cheeks, an awkward laugh bubbling out.

"I'm sorry," I shyly push out.

Shaking his head, now making sure his hand is on the gate, Mr. Hiddleston bashfully looks down and opens up the exit for me. "Don't be, love. It was my fault."

"If you want to be the culprit, be my guest," I reply sassily. I don't want to see if my comment amused him or caused a cringe, so I don't look up. Instead, I look around for something to make our trip easier. "Did you want me to get a cart instead of carrying them up? It's up to you."

Shrugging, Mr. Hiddleston begins taking books from the stack, leaving me with less than half. "I don't mind walking if you don't mind. I missed my morning jog, so I'm trying to compromise the best I can."

I nod and kindly smile, even though my insides and my weak muscles are upset I took on the mission. "Walking it is then. Lead the way!"

Mr. Hiddleston turns on his heel, passing a smile to Mrs. Gibbons. "Thank you for letting me steal your little helper."

"Just return her the way she's leaving," Mrs. Gibbons retorts.

"We'll see," he replies, sending me a smirk and a wink. If the man wanted to turn my knees into jelly, he already succeeded from the first introduction. Now he's just teasing my flustered heart. "Just this way, love," Mr. Hiddleston tells me. I'm too afraid to speak, so I nod, smile, and follow beside him up the staircase.

#obsessive teachings #dark!tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fanfiction #teacher!tom hiddleston #loki #high school #stalking #obsessed love #obsessive #dark!fic

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ibijau · 4 years

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Worst engagement AU // on AO3

After finding out exactly how Nie Huaisang feels about him, Lan Xichen tries to get a grip on his emotions and to figure out what to do next.

The evening after it, Lan Xichen doesn’t go to the dining halls. He doesn’t dine at all, in fact. When his uncle asks about it later, he says that he got too deep in meditation and didn’t notice the time. It’s not quite true, and he doesn’t think Lan Qiren believes him.

Lan Xichen does lose track of time that afternoon though. After what happened, it takes him a while to sort out the way he feels.

The first emotion he can identify, once he stops crying and drags himself to his bed, is anger, fuelled by jealousy. He’s angry that Nie Huaisang, not for the first time, toyed with his emotions and pretended to flirt with him only to hurt him. He’s angry that Nie Huaisang once again treated their engagement so lightly, even after Lan Xichen closed his eyes on his previous betrayal. He’s angry that someone else got to touch Nie Huaisang when it is now so clear that he never will. He’s angry that he’s not angry enough to hate Nie Huaisang, even after this. He’s angry at the pain he’s feeling and the way he can't make it stop. He’s angry at everything.

That rage rolls and rises like a wave before coming crashing down as night falls, leaving behind a mess of guilt and sorrow.

If there was still any doubt in his mind about the way Nie Huaisang feels about him, it is now gone. His fiancé hates him, plain and simple.

Not for the first time, Lan Xichen wonders if his father too went through that realisation, and whether it was before or after forcing his wife to marry him. He hopes it was after, that his father was too naive to see the truth before. It is hard enough to be the child of such parents without having to face exactly how twisted their marriage was.

Because this is where Lan Xichen’s understanding of his father stops. If he had a choice, he would call off the engagement this instant. In fact it is so tempting to grab paper and beg Nie Mingjue to put an end to this cruel joke, because he loves Nie Huaisang too much to see him waste away as his mother did. How his father could bear it, he doesn’t understand. To love a person with all the passion Qingheng-Jun is said to have felt for his wife, and still keep them like a caged bird with broken wings…

But there’s a war coming, and this isn’t just an engagement, it’s an alliance against a sect that threatens all their lives. Even if Lan Xichen asked to break this off, Nie Mingjue would have to refuse. Even if Nie Mingjue agreed, Lan Qiren and Qingheng-Jun would argue with him to change his mind. The feelings of two boys don’t matter when compared to what awaits if their sects do not stand together. Lan Xichen’s only hope is that the situation somehow de-escalates, that the Wen realise they cannot push much further before the other great sects have no choice but to push back.

A fool’s hope.

Men like Wen Ruohan and his sons are born for war, and they will all pay the price of Qishan Wen’s ambitions.

Still, Lan Xichen, in the little hours of the morning, promises himself he will not profit from this forced marriage the way his father did. It was already wrong of him to force himself upon Nie Huiasang the way he did (and he does not, cannot, refuses to think how good it was to kiss Nie Huaisang, how even through the guilt he’d give anything to do it again, if only there was a way to make his fiancé want him). The rules of Gusu Lan are strict on such matters, and Lan Xichen will have to see what punishment he earned.

He’ll do better in the future. He’ll see if Nie Huaisang can be given his own house, as Lan Qiren once suggested was possible. He’ll leave Nie Huaisang free to return to the Unclean Realm as often as he likes, as long as he likes, and to visit his friends in Lotus Piers or (Lan Xichen’s mind rebel at the idea, his stomach heaves, anger not quite as appeased as he had thought, but he forces it down because he has no right to make demands, no rights to tell Nie Huaisang who to be friends with, who to love even, if that’s what it is) in Carp Tower. And then, when the war that they all fear has happened, if they have, won, if they still live… then Lan Xichen will do what’s right and find a way to have their marriage annulled.

Lan Xichen refuses to become his father.

When dawn rises, Lan Xichen is exhausted but confident that things, one way or another, will be fine.

That confidence lasts until he reaches the dining halls for breakfast and sees Nie Huaisang sitting with Jiang Cheng, chatting about something. His fiancé's face is pale, he has dark lines under his eyes, as if he did not sleep either, and he shows even less appetite than usual for the meal before him. Yet when their eyes meet, Nie Huaisang’s gaze is challenging.

It occurs to Lan Xichen that after what the other boy told him, it would be easy to get him in terrible trouble. What for, though? Nie Huaisang already hates him enough. All Lan Xichen can do is, once again, promise him that he will keep this secret as well.

Jiang Cheng, noticing that his friend is distracted, follows his gaze until he spots Lan Xichen. He must not like what he sees, because he immediately puts a protective arm around Nie Huaisang’s shoulder.

In an instant, the anger that Lan Xichen had so carefully extinguished flares up again. He wonders if Jiang Cheng too…

Lan Xichen hurriedly leaves the dining halls without having eaten anything. His cultivation is good enough that it's not a problem, and going hungry is better than taking the risk of letting his emotions explode in public. Luckily he does not have classes that morning, so he is free to return home, and meditate some more in a vain attempt to stop crying.

When the bell for lunch rings, Lan Xichen ignores it. He has only just regained control of himself and cannot lose it again. It can't last forever, sooner or later he'll need to eat. There's still over a month left until the guest disciples leave, Lan Xichen knows he cannot stay without food that long. He knows, also, that he doesn't feel ready to face Nie Huaisang yet.

It's mid-afternoon when Lan Xichen hears someone come into the house, followed by a careful but familiar knock on his bedroom's door. Lan Xichen takes a deep breath, rises from his bed, checks that it is not too obvious that he has been crying, and puts on a smile.

"Come in, Wangji."

His brother enters the room, carrying a tray with food. Seeing this, Lan Xichen's smile grows a little more sincere.

"You didn't have to," he says, coming closer to take the tray and put it down on his desk.

"Brother missed several meals," Lan Wangji replies, some worry seeping through his normally unemotional tone. "Brother looks unwell."

Lan Xichen sits down at his desk, and inspects the content of the tray. The dish there is one that he particularly enjoys, in spite of his efforts to follow the rule against preferences. It could be a coincidence, but…

"Wangji, did you make this for me?" he asks, to which he brother nods. "You shouldn't have. I'm not unwell, I just have something on my mind. But thank you, I'm very grateful you made such efforts for me."

As Lan Xichen starts eating (he was starving, he realises) his brother comes to sit near him. Lan Xichen feels a little guilty for causing him to worry, especially when Lan Wangji probably has other things to do. He needs to get himself under control as soon as possible to stop causing trouble.

"Did something happen with Nie gongzi?" Lan Wangji asks after a moment, sitting down next to his brother.

Nearly choking on his food, Lan Xichen throws him a startled look.

"What makes you think that?"

"If it were anything else, Brother would have told Uncle," Lan Wangji points out. "But on the matter of Nie gongzi, Brother keeps everything to himself."

Lan Xichen grimaces, poking at his food.

"I'm not hearing that from you when I still am not allowed to mention Wei Wuxian in your presence."

It is, perhaps, a low blow to speak of that now, but Lan Xichen has yet to find a more efficient way to make his brother drop a conversation. This time though, it doesn't work.

"Is Brother's situation similar to mine with Wei Ying?" Lan Wangji asks instead.

Lan Xichen considers that for a moment, despondently looking at his lunch, and sighs.

"If you had asked me yesterday, I would have said yes," he confesses, too tired to stop himself. "Now, I cannot say. I've made a mess of everything. I don't think there's any going back from this. I suppose I deserve it, for the way I've treated him before."

Patiently, Lan Wangji nods and says nothing, clearly inviting for further confession. It is tempting, but Lan Xichen cannot burden his little brother with his problems, that wouldn't be right. It's supposed to be Lan Wangji who comes to him for comfort, not the opposite. At the same time, that means Lan Xichen has no one to talk to.

He wishes he could fly to Qinghe and cry against Nie Mingjue’s shoulder, but this is the one topic he cannot share with his best friend. He wishes his uncle were not so severe on matters of the heart. He wishes he had a normal father, one he could go to when things get too hard, one who would love him, listen to his problems, comfort him, and give him advice. He wishes, briefly, that his mother were still alive… though on second thought, perhaps it's best that she isn't. She wouldn't be sympathetic to his heartache, he suspects, and losing her respect would kill him.

He created this mess alone, and now he must deal with it alone.

“It’ll be fine,” Lan Xichen says, hoping that’s not a lie, fearing that it is. “I will sort things out. I just need to…”

Words fail him. He’s not sure what he even needs to do. Talk to Nie Huaisang, probably, but the idea of that hurts too much and threatens to bring back tears, which he cannot afford in front of his brother. He doesn’t want to upset Lan Wangji. He doesn’t want to have to explain what happened, and face his brother’s disappointment. He doesn’t want to make Lan Wangji choose a side between his brother and one of his too rare friends. He doesn’t want to know what that choice would be.

“Can I help?” Lan Wangji asks, putting one hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Coming from him, with his aversion to touch, it is the equivalent of a hug. Lan Xichen is more grateful than he can say. It immediately gets harder not to cry, but Lan Xichen still manages, controlling his breathing.

“I’m really fine,” Lan Xichen insists. “You don’t have to worry.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t reply, but gives his brother a long stare that says it all.

“I don’t think you can help,” Lan Xichen sighs. “I don’t think anyone can. It’s too late now. Although…”

He hesitates. It would be unkind to involve his brother in his problems, but at the same time, he simply does not trust himself to be near Nie Huaisang in public. There’s too much risk of causing a scene, and that would not be good for either of them. And yet, they need to talk. If nothing else, Lan Xichen needs to make sure his fiancé knows that he won’t tell anyone about this new… misdemeanour.

“Wangji, if I asked… would you pass a message to Nie Huaisang for me?”

“Hm.”

“Thank you. If you could tell him… regarding the matter that we discussed yesterday, it will be kept between us. As for the rest, I would appreciate if he could come see me here at his convenience to see what can be done.”

“Hm. Anything else?”

“I will probably take my dinner here as well, could you see if that can be arranged? I will endeavour to have things under control by tomorrow but for now… I think that’s best.”

Somehow, Lan Wangji looks more worried now, and his brother wonders how much he can guess. Thankfully, Lan Wangji is a respectful boy and he doesn’t insist, leaving Lan Xichen alone so he can go deliver his message immediately.

Alone with a lunch he struggles to eat, Lan Xichen ponders on what he will say to apologise to Nie Huaisang. He will have to start with that unwanted kiss, for which he still needs to check the appropriate punishment. Then… then everything else. Every little bit of casual cruelty he showed as a child, every dismissive remarks he made, every disdainful silence… Lan Xichen, to his great shame, cannot remember everything he’s done, but he’s sure that Nie Huaisang does. His explosion of rage the day before is proof of that.

After a while, Lan Wangji returns. He gives the still mostly full tray of food a judging look, and seems upset that Lan Xichen is still still at his desk after this long, but doesn’t comment on that.

“Nie Huaisang acknowledged that you would keep certain things between yourselves,” he announces. “As for the rest, he declined the invitation to speak with you.”

Lan Wangji sounds disappointed as he says that, as he always is when he feels people are unreasonable. Lan Xichen feels guilty for asking his brother to play the messenger in such a matter, and hopes it will not cause a rift between the two friends. He would not forgive himself if he ruined that as well.

“I understand,” Lan Xichen says with a smile. “He has good reasons for that, and I did not expect him to agree. I’m sorry for bothering you, I won’t do it again.”

"Hm."

Lan Wangji sits down next to him, and takes his hand. That simple gesture brings back too many recent memories. It breaks what little control Lan Xichen has, and he starts crying again, though more quietly. He wonders how disgusted Nie Huaisang must have been when Lan Xichen took his hand. He will have to apologise for that as well.

"I'm here for you," Lan Wangji says quietly. "I will help, any way I can."

"Play something for me," Lan Xichen requests after some brief hesitation. "I can't seem to meditate properly today."

Without asking any questions, Lan Wangji agrees and goes to fetch his guqin. The song they decide on is perhaps not the most powerful one of the Lan repertoire, but Lan Wangji plays it well enough that afterwards his brother does feel some sense of peace. The pain of being hated by Nie Huaisang is still there, as is the fear of what the future will bring for them, but they no longer overwhelm Lan Xichen.

Things are not ideal. In fact, they are almost as far from ideal as they can be. But he knows what the right course of action is, and he will do his best to act righteously.

Lan Xichen will not be his father.

Just as he promised, Lan Xichen has himself back under control by the next morning, and he has a plan of action ready. The first step, naturally, is to talk to Nie Huaisang. The thought is still deeply painful, but that doesn't make that conversation any less necessary.

Of course, talking to Nie Huaisang is easier said than done. When Lan Xichen tries to approach him at breakfast, the younger boy manages to escape. He does the same at lunch, all but running away with Jiang Cheng before Lan Xichen is even done eating. That’s not such a problem, though. Lan Xichen has some other business to attend, but as soon as he is free, he simply goes to the Jiang cabin. When Jiang Cheng comes to the door, Lan Xichen asks to see his fiancé.

“He’s not here,” Jiang Cheng says.

“Wasn’t he with you earlier?”

“And now he’s not. Try his own cabin maybe.”

Lan Xichen already has, and found it empty. Of course there’s always the option that Nie Huaisang went to hide with Jin Zixuan (it hurts and nearly chokes him, but he can control it now) but it seems unlikely. Nie Huaisang is too smart to do anything that might implicate his lover. In fact, since he’s still spending time with Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen takes it as proof that nothing must have happened between them, or else Nie Huaisang would be avoiding him too.

“I see,” Lan Xichen says with a polite smile. “I will try that, I suppose. Still, should you see him, please let him know that I would like to speak with him.”

“Didn’t he already tell your brother that he doesn’t want to?” Jiang Cheng retorts.

“He did. And yet, we must talk.”

“Then just wait until your next stupid meeting. You can force him to put up with you at that time.”

Lan Xichen wants to protest that he’s not the one who chose to have those weekly encounters, that he really needs to speak with Nie Huaisang as soon as possible, that Jiang Cheng shouldn’t make comments on a situation that he doesn’t understand.

“I will not bother Jiang gongzi again then,” he says with a smile. “Thank you for your help, and have a pleasant afternoon.”

As he leaves behind the Jiang cabin, Lan Xichen reminds himself that it is good Nie Huaisang has such a loyal friend, one ready to protect him even against his future husband. It probably helps that Jiang Cheng’s parents have a marriage that is known to be… less than satisfactory. He understands how messy things can get.

It’s good that Nie Huaisang has allies.

The rest of the week goes very much the same way. Lan Xichen cannot seem to get a hold of Nie Huaisang, who sometimes doesn’t even appear at meals in an effort to avoid him. When he is there, it is always at Jiang Cheng’s side, and even Lan Qiren remarks that Nie Huaisang no longer alternates seats in class as he used to do. Lan Xichen expresses polite surprise, and says nothing of the reason why Nie Huaisang might have started avoiding Jin Zixuan’s company.

As the days pass, Lan Xichen tries to comfort himself by thinking that, just as Jiang Cheng said, he will see Nie Huaisang during their usual meeting. When that day comes at last, Lan Xichen meticulously prepares everything. He brings biscuits, brews the tea which Nie Huaisang has shown the least aversion to, and readies an incense stick. He has an apology prepared, as well as a detailed explanation of how they might deal with this marriage which Nie Huaisang hates so much. He is as ready for this as he will ever be. All that’s left to do is wait for Nie Huaisang.

So he waits.

He is still waiting by the time the bell rings for dinner.

He waits even after that, against all hope.

He doesn’t stop waiting until his uncle and brother come home and find him still at the table. Lan Qiren frowns at the sight, but before he can say anything, Lan Xichen hurriedly tidies everything and seeks refuge in his room. He does not want to deal with his uncle’s judgement, not on top of everything else.

After days of keeping his cool, Lan Xichen ends up crying again that night. It’s the first time that Nie Huaisang misses one of their meetings. There’s never been any doubt that he hated those, he’s always made it extremely clear, but for him to simply refuse to come feels like a blow Lan Xichen was not prepared for.

The next day, Lan Xichen does not seek out Nie Huaisang. He also does not allow himself to look in his direction, accepting just how unwanted his company is. In the morning, he takes care of some things his uncle asked him to deal with. At lunch, he once more does not look at Nie Huaisang.

Afternoon comes, and with it a little bit of freedom. Lan Xichen is supposed to practice on the xiao and later to go to the shooting range to train, but he has different plans. If Nie Huaisang does not want to see him, he can understand it. Still, certain things have to be said, one way or another. So Lan Xichen sits before a sheet of paper, and proceeds to write down the apology that he will not get the chance to say out loud.

He is on his fifth draft when the front door violently opens and Lan Qiren comes in, dragging by the elbow a very unwilling Nie Huaisang whom he pushes toward the table.

“Orders are meant to be obeyed,” Lan Qiren states. “Weekly meetings until classes end have been ordered, and they will happen.”

Nie Huaisang stumbles a little at being pushed this way, but quickly recovers his balance and glares at the teacher. Lan Xichen feels cold seize him because while he knows his uncle probably means well, this is really just going to make things worse.

“Uncle, I don’t think it’s necessary…”

“You’re guilty as well,” Lan Qiren snaps. “If he doesn’t come, you’re supposed to tell me, not mope around. You’ll both be punished for this infraction. Now get to it, and don’t make me have to deal with you again on this matter.”

Just as suddenly as he arrived, Lan Qiren goes away, leaving the two boys alone. Lan Xichen quickly grabs his failed letters and puts them down on the floor so they won't be seen. He hasn't managed to write one that satisfies him, and so they cannot be shared. At the same time, being in front of Nie Huaisang makes it feel as though words are stuck in his throat, so simply saying those things might not work either.

For a long while, the two of them remain as they are, Lan Xichen sitting with his eyes down, Nie Huaisang standing nearby. Lan Xichen knows he should make tea and light the incense so that at least they know how long to put up with this unbearable tension, but his body won't obey. He jolts in surprise when he hears Nie Huaisang open a fan, and again when the other boy comes to sit across from him, eyes challenging even if most of his face is hidden.

The fan is the one Lan Xichen secretly gifted him. His heart twists. For this too he'll have to come clean. He doubts the fan will ever be used again after. Still, it must be done.

Lan Xichen takes a deep breath, and puts on a smile.

"Nie gongzi, I must apologise for my actions last week. I shouldn't have…"

“I would not sleep with Wen Chao rather than you,” Nie Huaisang cuts him, still glaring from behind his fan. “That was mean, and untrue, and I shouldn’t have said that. For the rest, I'm not sorry. ”

It’s a stupid detail, and Lan Xichen didn’t believe that had been said earnestly because Wen Chao is an awful little monster. Yet it still makes him feel a little lighter. His pride took a severe blow already, he doesn’t think he could survive ranking lower than Wen Chao.

“So, Jin Zixuan…”

Nie Huaisang shrugs, frowning slightly before raising his fan so he can hide more fully. What little lightness Lan Xichen had regained is crushed by that confirmation.

“Do you like him?” he asks, desperately trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Just as a friend. And he doesn’t like boys that way. We were just kind of bored one day. It was a stupid thing to do, and it was even more stupid to tell you about it.”

“Then why tell me?”

Again, Nie Huaisang shrugs.

“I figured hurting you would make me happy. It did, but not as much as I thought it would. I didn’t like seeing you cry.”

It certainly worked. Even now, Lan Xichen can barely keep the pain under control.

“I’m sorry?”

Nie Huaisang snorts and lowers his fan, showing a crooked, uncertain smile.

“If you’re going to apologise, at least do it for something that’s actually your fault. I can give you a list.”

"Do it."

“What?”

Lan Xichen takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly, grounding himself.

“Give me a list of the ways I’ve wronged you. I know I have not treated you right, and I’m ready to apologise, but I don’t know where to start. Tell me and I’ll make amends.”

"It'll be a long list," Nie Huaisang sneers, bitterness seeping through his voice.

"I know. But I know that I've hurt you, and that I have been unfair to you. Not just unfair, I have been cruel. That was wrong of me, and you have every right to hate me. I apologise for that. If you tell me more precisely which of my words and actions have hurt you, I will apologise for that specifically and endeavour to not repeat those mistakes. If you are willing to hear me, I have also come up with some ideas so that when we are married, it impacts your life as little as possible."

The look Nie Huaisang gives him is not a kind one. It’s not cruel either, though. Lan Xichen feels like a horse being inspected by buyers at a fair.

"I will give this due consideration," Nie Huaisang says at last, raising his fan again.

“Thank you.”

Nie Huaisang’s grasp on his fan tightens, and his eyes narrow. “Aren’t you upset that I’m not just forgiving you? Isn’t that what you were expecting?”

“Honestly, that you’d even listen to me at all is already more than I was hoping for,” Lan Xichen admits.

The confession appears to startle Nie Huaisang who gives him another long, appraising look before hesitantly closing his fan.

"So what happens now?" Nie Huaisang asks, looking as uncertain as Lan Xichen feels.

"The choice is yours. I feel I have no right to make demands. Though I know…" Lan Xichen hesitates. "I'd like to be friends, if you think that's possible. I think we could be, if we just try."

"You mean if I try."

Lan Xichen doesn't answer right away because yes, that's what he meant, but of course that's unfair. If he had been kinder in his youth, if he had paid more attention this year too, they wouldn’t have ended up like this.

"I must make efforts as well. I know I have been unkind to you. I will continue making amends and try harder to show you I'm sincere."

"Then act sincere," Nie Huaisang snaps. "Do you know how annoying it is to see you all controlled and perfect like this? People call your brother cold, but you're worse!"

Lan Xichen blinks at the accusation and smiles. He can't help it, it's a habit. Between his sullen uncle, his absent father, and reluctant brother, someone in this family has to make a show of goodwill when things get tense.

Of course, Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes.

"Exactly like that. I think the only moments I've seen you express a real emotion were our last meeting, and at Wen Chao's wedding! It's so frustrating! How can anyone be friends with you like this? I don't get how Mingjue put up with it, honestly."

"I'm not like that with him," Lan Xichen admits. "I feel safe enough for that."

"But you don't feel safe with me," Nie Huaisang comments, nervously playing with his closed fan.

Lan Xichen nods uncertainly.

"I have always been taught that I need to be polite above all else. People expect it of me. I thought you would want that as well. If you prefer, I'll… try to be more open."

Nie Huaisang doesn’t look like he believes Lan Xichen actually will. He’s not wrong to doubt him. It won’t be easy. He can do it with Nie Mingjue because they’ve become friends before he really learned to control himself and Nie Mingjue won't let him hide, but to let someone else in, that’s…

"And what should I do, then?" Nie Huaisang asks. “I know what annoys me about you, there’s got to be things you wish you’d change about me.”

The only thing Lan Xichen would change, if he could, is the way Nie Huaisang feels about him. That, obviously, is not an option, so he settles for the closest thing to it.

"Give me a chance. A real one. I meant it, I think we could be friends. We like a lot of the same things, and we made a good team in Nightless City. I won’t ask for anything else but I… I like you. I really do. And if we could get along…”

“We’ve tried that already,” Nie Huaisang remarks with a pointed look at the place where they usually put their incense stick. They forgot this time.

Lan Xichen grimaces, though all his carefully crafted instincts tell him to smile. This is a test, even if Nie Huaisang may not intend it as such. He has been asked for openness, and he must try to deliver.

“I don’t want to get along for an alliance,” he explains, “or because we’re ordered to. I want us to be friends because even after… after what happened, I like the idea of spending time with you. I really want to be able to chat with you. You are funny, when you forget you’re talking to me, and I think you’re one of the cleverest people I know. I like the way you paint, I want to be able to talk about that too, because neither Wangji nor Mingjue care about it. I like when we play Go, you’re the most interesting opponent I’ve ever had even if you cheated last time. It’s fine if you don’t like me the way I like you, but maybe you can learn to not hate me at least?”

Early into that explanation, Nie Huaisang’s fan opened and rose again. Even like this, Lan Xichen can see hints of a blush so intense it creeps on his entire face, up to the root of his hair.

“Lan gongzi, you’re mocking me,” Nie Huaisang mumbles.

“Hm. If I try to be more open with you, you’ll have to try to believe me in return,” Lan Xichen points out, as gently as he can when he feels the sting of his efforts being dismissed this way.

"Then at least say something believable! You’ve made it clear for years how much to despise you, am I supposed to just trust that you somehow changed your mind about me?”

“No, it can’t be that easy,” Lan Xichen sighs. “It’s fine. I’ll prove it to you, over time. I really do think highly of you now, even if I was too stupid to see your worth before. For this too, I’m sorry.”

Nie Huaisang curls up to better hide behind his fan, which Lan Xichen finds a little cute, but mostly sad. It should not be so difficult for Nie Huaisang to accept that others have noticed what a wonderful person he is. It will be something to work on. It won’t be too much of a chore to frequently compliment Nie Huaisang’s qualities until he accepts that Lan Xichen is earnest about that.

“Lan gongzi, you’re really too serious,” Nie Huaisang mutters. “I… I think I need a little time to think about all that. It was a lot. I know we didn’t light the incense but I think enough time has passed, no?”

Lan Xichen nods. “I think so too. We can continue talking next week.”

Closing his fan, Nie Huaisang hums, throwing his fiancé another long, appraising look before standing up.

“We’ll see,” he says at last. Instantly Lan Xichen feels disappointed and wonders how he will convince his uncle to accept that the meetings must stop, but Nie Huaisang turns his back on him and adds: “Maybe we’ll talk before next week.”

At this, Lan Xichen’s heart is sent racing. It’s such a small thing, not even a promise, and yet it’s already so much.

“I’m always happy for your company, Nie gongzi.”

Nie Huaisang only shrugs at that, and doesn’t look back before he leaves the house. Still, it feels like a step in the right direction, and Lan Xichen finds himself hoping.

Not for love, he’s not that naive. Not for friendship either, not yet, not for a long time he suspects. But he hopes that at least, they can finally learn to be near each other without pain. After all that happened, it would already change everything between them.

#xisang #worst engagement au #jau writes #it's a long chapter at over 5K #also I'll probably not update for a few days since I need to figure out a few things for this AU #and also partner's birthday is coming!! gotta write a fic for them!! this takes absolute priority now!!!#anyway enjoy lxc being utterly miserable the way everyone wanted him to be during phase 1 :D

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desiraypark · 4 years

Text

Love in Writing [Prologue]

Series Summary: Friends since childhood and sweethearts since adolescence, Finn and Darla are now of age to court and eventually marry. But when Finn is away in the army, his “brother” and frenemy, Ben, snatches their chance at matrimony away. Main Characters: Darling “Darla” Teven (Daughter of Dekari and Amala Teven) (Blk/F) Finn Okani (Son of the late Jace and Callila Okani) Ben Skywalker Solo (His Grace, the Young Prince) Setting: - Country of Alderaan - Not space - In a world comparable to the Western hemisphere of the Earth (but not Earth lol) - Starts in a time comparable to the early 1910s Disclaimer: Though set in a “historical” period, this series won’t be completely historically accurate. The series is more so “inspired” by the Western culture of the early 20th century, but much of the content is the result of my re-imagining and re-envisioning the era(s). Categories: Angst - Drama - Fluff - Historical - Romance - Scandal - Smut Content Warnings: Arranged Marriage - Backstabbing - Conniving - Deceit - Degradation - Infidelity

Though the original character will be forced into a marriage, I intend to avoid putting any non-con into this series.

(Prologue after break)

The Debut Ceremony

My Dearest Finn,

My Love, I wish the contents of this letter were pleasant. The most horrific thing has happened. Ben has asked my parents’ permission to court me and they said “yes”! I am mortified. I miss you my Love and wish you were here to fight this with me. My parents said that they think you are a splendid young man and they adore you. But of course, a union within the royal family would be more beneficial to the Teven family. I can’t understand why Ben would do this. Surely, he knows that we’ve been in love since we were in secondary school. I know that you’ve shared your affections for me with him. Yes, I remember you telling me that he may harbor some resentment toward you, but I did not believe it was this strong. Princess Leia asked me if I was sure I wanted to court Ben. I’m sure that she, too, is aware of our affection for each other. But my parents burned into me with a mighty glare, striking the fear of the Maker into me. I said “yes”. But as you know, Princess Leia isn’t the final decision-maker. King Luke also sees benefit in a Skywalker-Solo-Teven union. My sweet Finn. I am sorry that I have to share this news with you in a letter. Please say a prayer for me, as I will continue to pray for you. But now, I fear that I pray for an end to this undesirable union in a not-so-pleasant way. I love you, Finn. And only you. Always.

Sincerely, Your Darling ____________________ THREE EVENINGS BEFORE

“Ladies and gentlemen, the highlight of our evening begins…”

“Ready to make ourselves available for sanctified deflowering, ladies?” Rey asked. Jenaveve pinched her daughter’s bare shoulder.

“Twelve gorgeous young ladies are ready to make their debut as women among King Luke Skywalker, his Royal Family, esteemed guests, and twelve Alderaan’s finest young men. Here they are…”

A violin played.

“First out, Estela Becall, daughter of Trevin Becall, escorted by her mother, Lumina Becall…”

The announcer--Prime Minister Tico, called the names of the remaining eleven young ladies, including his granddaughter, Rose. She was Rose Tico, daughter of Issak, escorted by her mother, Belle. Isaak Tico was a Navy general who wanted little to do with politics and the frills of the aristocracy. He was intent on letting his daughters, Rose and Paige, live relatively normal lives--but he wasn’t always able to escape the golden claws of his esteemed father. Rose took it all in stride. She was a perfect combination of her male descendants: fiercely independent like her father and boldly persuasive like her grandfather. And she was a humanitarian like her mother--dedicated to remaining on the right side of history. Now, here she was following Alderaan aristocrat tradition--her hair pinned up and body adorned in minimal jewels and a gown of Skywalker blue.

Jannah Itanni--fourth in the debut line. She was the granddaughter of York Itanni I - the world-famous inventor and engineer, and daughter of his son, York Itanni, II. Jannah was very much like her father--an explorer at heart. Curious. Always ready for a new adventure. She didn’t hate the debut ceremony--in fact, she hoped to catch the eye of a young pilot who could teach her to fly--but she hated the rules and the consequences of unfollowed rules. So many unnecessary things, if you asked her. Rose and Jannah went to school with Rey Jakkan and Darling Teven. Rey was the youngest daughter of Markus Jakkan and Jenaveev Olvair-Jakkan (daughter of oil tycoon, Cyrus Olvair). She and Jannah were best friends. Whenever one was in trouble, the other one usually was, too. They often snuck out of their homes to meet each other. How they were able to do it so often without being caught, no one ever knew. Like Jannah, she hated all the rules and protocol of the debut ceremony--but unlike Jannah, who kept her complaints to low mumbles, Rey fought and protested the entire way. Ninth in the line (and alphabetically in front of Rose) was Darling Teven. Yes, Darling is her real name. But everyone (except her mother) called her “Darla”. Darla was the daughter of Dekari and Amala Teven--and granddaughter of Jahani Teven. Her grandfather was the founder and CEO of Eastland Preserves, one of the biggest dried foods manufacturers in Alderaan. Eastland Preserves also had storefronts in five of Alderaan’s major cities.

Darla was just as mischievous as Rey and Jannah, but she did an excellent job of hiding her capers and quieting her quips. Always relaxed and easygoing, she knew when to play with the fire and knew when to step away. Naturally, Rose Tico was her best friend.

Twelve single young men stood in line to greet the young women with bows, kisses to hand, and hellos. If they didn’t know their names, they asked - but there were probably only two young ladies who were strangers to the Skywalker castle. For many of these young men and women had roamed the marble halls and plush grounds as children--passing the hours with boundless fun as their parents talked business, politics, or simple social affairs with King Anakin and Queen Padme, and for five years now, King Luke. Additionally, many of them attended the same prestigious academy. The young men traditionally lined up by titles and importance - royals first, the children of politicians second, and esteemed citizens (like businessmen’s sons) after. One by one, they chose their first dance. First in line was Prince Ben Skywalker-Solo - son of Princess Leia and Prince Han Solo, nephew of King Luke. This was his third time attending the annual debut ceremony. For it was no secret that the carefree young man wasn’t interested in a wife, but his parents forced him to participate. To at least look like he was trying to be an honorable man.

“Darling,” Ben said when he reached the Teven family’s only daughter. He bowed and kissed her hand, and she raised an eyebrow at him. The chandelier seemed to illuminate her and only her. She was always lovely, but the night’s air and the room’s airs made her radiant. “Benjamin,” she responded. He noticed Rose biting down a chuckle. “Ben is my full name, Darla.” “I know.” He smirked and walked to Rose. When greetings were done, Ben chose Rey to dance with first. He knew that she hated the entire affair and only wanted to antagonize her for it. Then, there was Darla--his final dance partner. Unofficial sweetheart to his unofficial brother.

“Darling Teven,” Ben said, as he took her hand. The second dreadfully long song of the evening began, and the two bowed and curtsied, and pranced into their waltz. “Why do you keep calling me that?” Darla asked. “Is your name not Darling?” “You have never called me Darling, Ben.” “Ben?” he asked, looking into her eyes. “Your Grace, you mean.” “You would love for me to call you that, wouldn’t you?” “I would. Just like I enjoy calling you Darling.” “All of a sudden...” Darla mumbled. Ben grunted and looked over Darling’s head. It required little effort--for he towered over everyone on the dance floor. “How is Finn? Do you still write him?” he asked. He met her eyes again. Darla was slightly annoyed by the question. She didn’t quite know why. There seemed to be a tinge of intrusiveness to it. He knew good and well that nothing could stop them from writing each other. “Of course I do. He is well. Ready for his advanced training soon,” she answered with a proud smile. “You don’t write him?” Ben shrugged. “He writes to his uncle. His uncle passes the messages on.” Darla nodded and they danced in brief silence. “So, how does it feel to be a woman?” he asked. She shrugged. “I feel no different.” “Oh. So I must give Finn some lessons.” Darla’s eyebrows scrunched together. “What are you talking about?” “Oh, you know. Sweet little harlot,” he said. Darla blinked in shock. “What did you call me?!” she growled. “Shh. Not in front of the guests, Darling,” he said with a grin. “Your secret is safe with me.” Darla huffed and suddenly began to sweat.

“Finn didn’t tell me, by the way,” Ben continued. “I knew when he left for the base. The way you two looked at each other at the station. The way he walked like he’d drank ten coca drinks. Where did you two go? His uncle’s barn?” "That’s none of your fucking business,” she said between clenched teeth. Ben shook his head. “Language, little one. Language...” “Oh, shove it up your ass, Ben,” she whispered. He just laughed. “But you’re right. It’s none of my business,” he said. “It’s just such a shame that the Darling of Alderaan didn’t get her beautiful cherry popped by a man with more experience.” “You’re disgusting,” Darla hissed. “And I wouldn’t want my cherry popped by a worn out and used utensil, anyway.” Ben threw his head back to laugh this time. He looked back down at her. “Used? Yes. Worn out? Not even close. Darling.” Darla rolled her eyes. “When will this song end?” Ben glanced over the dance floor and ignored the pained and impatient expressions on his peers’ faces. “We can change partners at this point.” “Thank the Maker.” “I have to initiate the switch. Me being the more important bachelor and all,” he said. “Well. Initiate!” Ben bit down on his bottom lip. Dimples pressed into his cheeks. He kept waltzing with Darla. “You’re a torturer,” she said. “And Finn would kill you if he saw what you were doing right now.” Ben didn’t say anything. He just stared into Darla’s eyes. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Finn isn’t the only person who thinks you’re beautiful, Darla.” Chills went down Darla’s spine. She swallowed. His confession was sweet but dripped with a sinister elixir. Surely, these feelings of his were new. If they were even genuine. “That’s kind of you, Ben. But Finn is the only man whose affections I desire.” Ben smiled. Then, his eyebrows knitted together. He nodded.

“We’ll see.” ____________________ Let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged in “Love in Writing”!

#love in writing

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seokiloquy · 4 years

Text

I’m Your Baby, Right? - Bokuto Koutarou

AU: Magic

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN Reader, Witches/Wizards (and so on) are not gendered terms they are descriptors of specific magic practice, also the reader gets called ‘mama’ but it really doesn’t have anything to do with their gender.

Word Count: 5.5+

Your hands worked gently into the shoulders of the older woman as she slowly knocked back a steaming cup of tea. The dainty container was painted with intricate yellow patterns along the edge but was hidden by the woman’s swollen fingers. Similarly, her feet were lifted on a footrest as she waited for the swelling to go down.

A fluttery breath escaped her as you lifted your hands off the warm skin of her exposed shoulders. “You’re an angel, (L/N). This tea is lovely.” Taking a hand off the cup, the older woman rubbed her swollen belly with gentle strokes, shifting the silk fabric with every swipe.

“I’m not an angel, Mrs. Hooper. But thank you.” You reach for your supplies, placing the dried herbs and flower petals back into their respective jars before dropping them into your satchel.

“Oh pshh, you are nothing short of magic.”

Swinging the leather bag onto your shoulder, you smiled at the pregnant woman. “I wouldn’t be a witch without magic, now would I?” You padded your matching leather shoes toward the house’s main entrance, eager to get out of the pristine home filled with golden antiques that you could never dream of having in your little cottage. “Tell your husband to walk over with the money when he gets home, you need to stay sitting or you’ll pop!”

Mrs. Hooper let out a light laugh while waving you out from her reclined seat in the middle of the main room. The beautifully carved door closed behind you gently behind you as you walked down the concrete stairs to the main road. People rushed past you quickly, eager to get onto the train cart before it rolled it’s way to another part of town, apologizing as they knocked you into the fancy home’s metal stair rail.

Heading in the opposite direction of the pedestrian traffic, you took calm steady steps toward the town’s south edge where the houses gradually became smaller before hitting a grassy field followed by a wall of tall pine trees. The town was filled with ringing bells and stomping feet as people ran to their jobs.

At the edge of the town’s centre, the concrete roads turned to stone paths and houses became sparse. Looking across the grassy field, past the scurrying children that dirtied their clothes with pesky grass stains and dirt, you saw your little house peeking out behind the first row of trees, surrounded by wild flora.

The kids and their parents waved to you as you walked past.

The wooden door creaked in agony as you pushed it open, croaking again as it swung shut. You kicked off your shoes, leaving them by the door as you stepped toward your kitchen table. A raspy purr emitted from the previously empty flower basket on the table, vibrating like an old man puffing out his last breath of cigar smoke. You peaked your head over the woven basket rim.

“Hi there, Mika. Are you tired?” Small coos bubbled out of your chest as you scooped the scruffy black cat into your arms. She twisted lazily, clawing at your cotton sleeves in an attempt to escape back into the basket. “No you don’t, you old geezer. It’s time for your medicine.”

The elderly familiar yowled as you cradled her in your arms, still trying to claw her way out as you reached for a needless syringe to place in the crook of her maw. “Don’t fight me now, you runt. You know I’ll win, you’re old, and a cat!”

Medicine safely down the short-haired cat’s throat, you set her free to wander around with hunched shoulders. You slumped into the chair that sat at the desk of all your jarred herbs and candles, watching the cat slowly crawl her way back to her favourite pillow and blanket. She struggled to jump up onto the couch. The sight made your stomach hurt.

As you climbed up the ornate astronomy tower attached to a large home near the center of town, you could hear voices echo into the stairwell. You took careful steps, listening to the stairs creak and keeping your hand gripped tightly to the railing.

“Akaashi, please. You got to tell me! This is important life info I need to hear.”

You pushed the wooden door at the top of the stairs open, leading you to a large circular room with shelves lining the walls filled with books, star maps, and questionable ingredients. Colourful silk scarves hung from the ceiling along with a spherical chair that suspended itself above the opening to the balcony, on the desk in the center of the room was a large black pot with a bubbling purple liquid over a heat source.

“Mr. Hoops, though I do specialize in magic of many forms, including fortunes, predicting the colour of your child’s hair does not require magic. They will be brunette, just like you and your wife.” Next to the bubbling pot was the town’s magic masterer, holding the titles of magic expertise as a warlock, enchanter, alchemist, and wizard, giving him the responsibility to respond to most of the towns inexplicable problems and often getting involved with predicting someone’s most likely future.

Flicking his hand over the top of the pot, the fire beneath it stopped and began to settle down, turning into a deep blue colour. He brushed the side of his blue and gold robes out of his way as he came to stand beside you, nodding in thanks as he took a small pastry from your hand.

“Now, Mr. Hoops, I have to work with (L/N) here, magic stuff, so if you could be so kind to escort yourself out and give your wife some company back home?”

The balding man nodded with a huff, wobbling past you to the door as he adjusted the black vest on his shoulders. He gave you a nod of acknowledgment as he adjusted the ribbon that was pinned over the heart of his chest, reading ‘Mayor’. Brushing a few thin hairs on his head, the door shut behind him with a gentle click.

“Akaashi, I hope I wasn’t interrupting.”

“Don’t worry, little witch, that man has been coming here every day for the past week hoping I could give him a fortune about his unborn child.”

You followed the enchanter to his center table, taking a seat on the round wooden stool he magicked out from under the table for you to recline on. You watched his flicking hand with an exasperated laugh before settling onto the seat. A little pygmy owl flew onto his shoulder, ruffling its feathers when it landed.

“So, what can I help you out with?”

You played with the baggy sleeves of your shirt, following Akaashi with your eyes as he pulled an empty glass container off his shelf and scooped a large amount of the blue liquid with a metal ladle. Slowly, he poured the smooth liquid into the glass jar. You gulped, suddenly feeling the need to drink some water. “I was wondering if you had any reverse ageing potions? Or something along those lines. Mika is getting old and you know a witch is nothing without their familiars. She even had trouble getting to her bed yesterday.”

Akaashi closed the jar with a pop of its lid. “That poor thing,” he said. “I have a few things that might work. But you should talk to Bokuto about familiars, it’s his area of primary study.”

Feeling heat crawl up your neck you shook your head rapidly, to the point of making the stool wobble beneath you. Thin wooden legs slamming into the floor. “Ah, no-no. That’s alright. I wouldn’t want to interrupt his studies.”

Akaashi scoffed as he reached for one of his many leather-bound books on his shelf as well as a few odd ingredients. “That man, for a want-to-be wizard, doesn’t put much effort into his more magic-based studies. But he is good with animals.”

A small whisper of ‘I know’ came meekly out of you, as Akaashi placed all the items on the table before you.

“This is probably all you need, read the instructions carefully. And just so you know, the potion probably won’t work for the long term.”

You nodded thankfully, standing from your seat. “While I’m here, do you want me to check on that wrist of yours?”

Akaashi gave you a small grin before waving his dominant hand in rapid flicking motions. “Thank you, but your tea and spell did just the trick.”

As you gathered your gifted supplies into your satchel Akaashi slowly made his way to the room’s exit, kindly gesturing you out. A snort escaped him as you suspiciously looked at a vial of red liquid before dropping it into the leather bag as well.

“Would you like me to escort you out, I can call Bokuto if you’d like.” A cunning grin cut into his cheek.

“No no, it’s okay. I can manage.” You walked through the doorway, looking up at the circular curve of the frame, before rushing down the steps. Akaashi’s laughter bubbled through the cold stairway.

Reaching the ground floor, where the main living space was, you sneezed as a bit of fluff tickled your nose.

“Sorry, little witch. Molly was shedding a bit more than normal.”

Even with your eyes squinted shut from your sudden sneeze, you could recognize the other person in the room. Your shoulders scrunched up to your eyes, fighting the heat that tried to crawl up your neck at the sound of the familiar loving wizard’s rough voice. An embarrassed laugh and cheeky grin nearly escaped you before you managed to school your expression into one of mild interest.

“A bit more?”

On the other side of your closed lids was a sight that desperately made you want to fall to your knees in a fit of adoring giggles.

Bokuto, from the tips of his raised hair to the bottom of leather boots, was covered in horsehair. The white stuck to him like glue, flying back as he brushed them away. He gave you a lopsided grin while picking fluff off of his shoulders. Your eyes followed the flexing of his upper torso underneath his white stable boy shirt. Across the width of his chest and along the length of his shoulder before trailing down his bicep, they grew in size as he reached for the opposite shoulder.

You gulped.

“So what’re you doing here anyway? Ooh, I like your outfit! It looks good.”

His eyes were very golden when you actually chose to look at them instead of the floor, they were sparkling. You adjusted the armholes of your ribbed vest, letting you large sleeves puff out a bit.

“Just grabbing a potion from Akaashi.”

“Oh Really?” his neck extended as stretched up in excitement. “I’m working on my curses and potions. Can I show you when I perfect them?!”

You responded with a happy grin. “You can show me at any time.”

“Yes!” In the corner of the pair’s kitchen, a squeak was heard. Bokuto gasped suddenly before shuffling through the cupboards with wild hands, knocking spices, jars and small bags out in haste. The muscles in his back seemed to threaten to rip through the seams of his shirt. “Peanut, no! You rat, get out of there!” He spun his head around to give you a big shiny smile, hand still tucked in the shelving. A small bird flew through the kitchen window, landing on his head with a satisfied chirp. “I’ll see you (L/N)!”

You left the warlock’s and his apprentice wizard’s home grabbing the strap of your old bag. Keeping the mental picture of bird nest Bokuto fresh in your mind

“Virgin blood.” Your brow furrowed as you looked from the leather spellbook that was laid out on your wooden table to the small vial that sat delicately between your fingers. “Where does he get this stuff?”

On the same table, between your cast iron pot and a large bouquet of dying flowers, Mika lazily played with a young mouse that was none-the-wiser about the harm that could come it’s way. Her claws never stretched out to hurt the small rodent though.

“One drop of virgin blood,” you read the line aloud as you followed. “Pinch of salt. Stir for 5 and settle for 24 hours.”

You twisted your body as you read the last line on the sheet, blindly reaching out for a wooden spoon. A hum built in your throat as you finished the line and began stirring. The puke green colour quickly turned into a delectable fruity pink. The smell even shifted into something nostalgic and sweet.

For five minutes you stood there staring into the enticing liquid.

The mouse on the table squeaked.

“(Y/N)!”

The spoon you were just pulling out of the black pot, fell back in with a small splash.

“Bo— what happened to your ears?”

The tall muscle made man stood in the centre of your doorway, shoulders slumped in as he tried to collapse in on himself and hide in his colourfully stained work clothes. An unflattering frown pulled at the corner of his lips. He looked down toward your socked feet before staring at the pot in question. His eyes met yours quickly.

“One of my curses went wrong.” One of his large ears twitched at the sound of the mouse squeaking. He looked at the small rodent with wide eyes and twitching fingers.

“You’re on your way to being a donkey.”

He whined, spiked white and black hair drooping at the ends. “Do you have a curse reverser or something? I really want my ears back to normal. Everything’s really loud.”

The tension between your brows was painful. “I have a few things. Stay here.”

As you ran toward your spell cupboard, Bokuto made his way to your kitchen counter, where your pot was left forgotten, tempting him with the smell of freshly cooked meat off of a grill. His tongue poked out, wetting the seam of his lip as he took a silent step toward the liquid-filled pot. As he reached the table’s side, Mika and her friendly mouse scattered, knocking into the vase as they jumped off. It wobbled slightly, but enticed by the pink stew in the small black pot, Bokuto didn’t notice.

He reached for the forgotten wooden spoon, scooping up the soup in the scooped head before lifting it to his mouth. The smell alone, wafting up into his nose from its position under his upper lip, made him salivate. He took an eager gulp, throwing his head back to swallow it all in one go.

“Bo?”

Dropping the wooden spoon back into the pink liquid, Bokuto looked over his shoulder to give you a wide-eyed look, lips pursed together in a surprised pout. The donkey ears on his head twitched slightly before morphing back to normal.

“Bo, did you drink my potion?” You rushed, setting down a collection of small jars on your couch’s side table.

His golden eyes followed your hurried movements as you came to stand before him, peeking into the content of the pot before gripping his cheeks tightly in the palm of your hands. He could feel the heat build-up in his cheeks underneath your hands and his stomach stir happily. You stared straight into his eyes, desperately trying to keep your attention on the situation at hand and not drown in the golden colour of his irises.

“Did you?”

Completely distracted by having your warm breath warm over his face, Bokuto grinned between his smushed cheeks. With a delighted hum, he slumped, melting into your hands. Just as he began to lift his hands to cover yours, you were blinded away from the flustering view.

Within a fraction of a second, a puff of glittering pink smoke appeared, making you hold back a cough as you shut your eyes tightly. The smoke felt warm and soft as it flew gently across your skin. The weight in your hands increased slightly.

Sighing, you turned your head back straight, hoping to be given the sight of Bokuto gently cradling your hands against his cheek with a dopey smile and relaxed eyelids.

“Dumbass,” you spat.

In your hands, balancing in the open space between your thumb and index fingers, was a child. A chubby child with plump round cheeks that set his lips into a permanent pout with a bit of drool dripping out and eyebrows that were absolutely too large for his face. Short two-toned hair sprouted out of his scalp like new feathers.

You let out a loud groan, bringing the naked toddler into your arms as you run to your bedroom to fish out a small blanket to snuggly wrap him in. Bokuto’s tiny hands gripped the edge of the small quilt that you messily warped around his shoulders, lifting it to his mouth to slobber against it. With gentle fingers, you pulled the cotton cloth away from his wet mouth and tucked him as close to you as possible so he couldn’t squirm.

Your socked feet padded loudly as you ran back to the kitchen. With your left hand free from carrying baby Bokuto’s weight, you dragged your finger over the worn page of akaashi’s book, searching. The toddler gargled behind you, spouting out gibberish words.

Taking your finger off the page, you carded them through his soft hair. The words that were neatly printed on the page in liquid ink gave you no answers, making thoughts run madly through your head, nearly blocking out the sound of a knock coming from your front door.

Cursing lightly under your breath, you bounced the baby in your arms and ran to the door.

“(L/N), Mr. Hooper sent me to pick up a— is that a baby?” The woman, who you recognized to be the mayor’s assistant, pointed to the young boy that giggled in your arms. “Is that a child of Bokuto? How—?”

You were quick to cut her off, flinging your left arm in the air and shaking your open farm furiously. “No-no-no. I don’t have a baby.”

“Mama.”

The professionally dressed woman gave you a confused look, almost disbelieving, as her thin eyebrow raised.

“Ignore that.” You gestured for her to enter your abode, closing the door as she stood quietly. “Inflammation and pain I presume?” You asked.

The woman nodded, following you into the kitchen where your pot still sat. Bouncing Bokuto in your arm, you opened a cupboard where all your medicinal tea mixtures and salves sat patiently.

“Is that dyed potato soup?” she asked curiously.

Spinning on your heel you reached out to hand her the medicine before gilding her shoulder towards the door.

“Nope, and you don’t want to drink it either. Mrs. Hoops knows the rules but please remind her; 3 times a day, breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

The old wooden door shut with a creek behind her.

You smacked the air blindly with a clawed hand as the extra weight of the baby wizard rested in your other arm. Bokuto giggled happily, trying to reach for the small birds that flew frantically around. You bounced, adjusting his place on your hip bone as a sparrow landed on your shoulder.

“What do you mean there’s no reverse spell?”

Akaashi groaned, arms darting out from his side as he tried to grab hold of a tiny rat that sprinted across his kitchen counter. Sprinting around the island and head down, the Warlock fair to notice a loyal steed poke head through the kitchen window.

“Molly!” He stumbled back, letting the rat run free and becoming a tree for birds. A chickadee chirped from the top of his head as he dug his fingers into his eyelids. “There’s no reverse spell because it’s meant to permanently give you a better life, letting you be youthful while continuing to age until death.”

Bokuto’s grubby fingers played with the feathers of the sparrow on your shoulder, massaging into the pleased bird’s head. You let out a long sigh, tapping your toe into the wood floor. “So Bokuto is going to be stuck like this until he dies?”

Swatting away the birds, Akaashi made his way around the kitchen’s island table to lift himself onto in front of you. Molly, seeing a golden opportunity, stuck her head in a little further to nibble on the black hair at the back of Akaashi’s head. A tired sigh escaped him.

“Was the potion finished when he decided to drink it?”

The baby of your hip gurgled, suddenly finding the collar of your shirt to be an interesting snack. “No, I had just finished mixing it.”

Leaning back against the horse's muzzle, Akaashi let his shoulder slump in relief. “Thank the gods. This should only be temporary then, maybe last a day.”

One of your brows raised as you watched the wizard get jostled around by Molly nodded her head. Akaashi leaned forward again, grabbing the edges of his gold-trimmed robe and wrapping them around his torso a bit tighter. His eyes shut for a moment as the rat scurried into his lap and curled into a ball.

“Tired?”

“Very, I can’t handle all these familiars. That’s Bokuto’s Job. I have my own work to do but now I have to deal with his two?” He glared at the mini Bokuto on your hip, who only giggled in response and made grabby hands at his mentor. “You just had to turn into a kid didn’t you, didn't even clean up after your curses, just ran off to go see (L/N) with those ridiculous ears on your head.” He paused for a moment. “Those are gone at least.”

You chuckled lightly as Bokuto whined on your hip, clenching his tiny first around the fabric of your shirt, occasionally hitting your side in anger. “So just a day? I can handle that.”

You peeked into your pot, looking at the slightly more purple liquid that waited inside of it as you cut up a few dried herbs. They split easily under your knife, crinkling loudly as you cut them down the smaller, more easily crunched.

Bokuto sat on your couch, tiny hands squeezing and playing with the paws of your old cat Mika as her tiny mouse friend curled into the fur on her back. He giggled, swaying on his bottom with his legs kicked spread out on Mika's sides.

Dropped the last few herbs into their respected jars, you wiped your hands with a beige cloth and made your way into the living room.

Bokuto immediately caught sight of you, drooping the feline's arms and raising his own towards you, hoping to be picked up. As you were about to comply, the two-toned haired baby cheered, “Mama!”

You grimaced, pausing your torso’s descent to pick him up for a moment. Eyes narrowed, you stared into his wide happy eyes and grinning mouth. “Why did you have to turn into a baby? Don’t call me ‘mama’.”

Scooping him into your arms, you brought the transformed Bokuto into your chest, rubbing his back as he gave you pleased gurgles in response. He smushed his mouth into your clothed collarbone, slobbering as he nuzzled into the spot, making his spit soak into your shirt.

“You’re lucky you're cute.”

As you were about to relax into the couch next to your beloved cat there was a knock at your door.

You sat Bokuto back down on the couch, ignoring his hands that tucked desperately at your shirt. He pouted, whining as he hit the cushions.

“Ah, hello. What can I help you with?”

On the other side of the door’s threshold was a young boy. His hands held onto the top of his satchel and swayed from side to side, a nervous smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Hi, witch (L/N). My grandpa’s got a cold.”

You furrowed your brow momentarily, looking over your shoulder at the sound of shuffling, you faced the young boy again. “Sweats, cough, runny nose?”

“All of the above.”

Something crashed behind you. You snapped your torso around to see your once beautiful vase spread across your floor in pieces. Bokuto sat in the center of the watery mess, a large pout pulling at his chubby cheeks as he glared at you, open palms smacking into the clear liquid.

“Damn it, Bokuto.”

He smacked his hands into the floor again, nearly hitting a shard of porcelain. Giving the boy in the doorway an exasperated look. “Let me get you what you need.”

You walked by the toddler, stepping over the mess, mentality promising to deal with it as soon as you gave the boy his medicine.

Bokuto smacked the floor again, whining.

“Bo, stop it please,” you begged, shuffling through your cabinets before pulling out a couple of jars. Carrying them in your hand to give them to the young boy that stood patiently outside.

With a loud whine, Bokuto continued to smack the wet floor repeatedly.

Handing off the jars, the boy gave you a quiet thanks and dropped a collection of coins in your palm before scurrying off toward town. Bokuto, wrapped in what now was a damp towel continued to tantrum. “Bo, please stop.”

Instead, he rolled onto his back and began to kick and punch the water.

You waited for his cries to stop while you picked up all of the vase’s pieces, putting them on your couch's side table for later. Bokuto’s cries slowed.

“Okay. Bo—”

He wailed for a second. You got up from your knees and searched for a towel. Once one was in your hand, you started to pat your floor dry.

“Bo.”

Another cry.

“Bo.”

And again.

“Koutarou please stop.”

Bokuto’s chubby arms and legs fell limp at his side. The light of the setting sun glowed through your window, painting the last few drops he laid in with a golden glow and making the white hairs on his head appear more akin to the colour of the yellow wildflowers outside your window.

He gave you an expecting look, arms held out towards you with wide eyes and a jutted out lip. Complying, you picked the man-child up and cradled him in your arm as you wiped the last bit of water up.

“Really. ‘Kou’. That’s all it took.”

He giggled into your chest, nuzzling his nose against your sternum.

The rest of the evening was spent with a happy child burrowing his way into your stomach as you lazed back across the length of your couch, rubbing his back as Mika snoozed off on your window sill, trying to soak in the last bit of heat the sun gave off. You gently trailed your nails along the center of Bokuto’s spine before brushing your fingers through his soft, spiky hair. He shivered a bit.

Mika, now cold from the outdoor breeze, jumped onto the couch by your feet, nudging them as a sign to go to bed.

Picking your legs up, you carried Bokuto toward the blanket filled basket that Mika had made a home in only a day prior. Carefully, you lowered Bokuto’s child form into the warm cocoon, ignoring his fussy cries as you swaddled him in the sheets.

“Mama! Papa!”

“Stop that, I’m not your parent.” You stared at his pout for a moment, before letting out a frustrated groan. “Why do you have to be a cute baby too? Wasn’t having you around as an adult enough?”

Bokuto huffed, thick eyebrows pulling upwards in the center.

“I give up, time for bed.”

You set the basket down on the couch next to Mika before heading into your room empty-handed, ready to crack the window open and sleep.

It must have been around 2 am when the cries started, startling you awake. You yawned as you made your way into the main room of your house, hobbling with each step until you were looking over the armrest of your couch.

Bokuto, with his eyes shut tightly, swung his arms wildly as he scratched into the darkness of your home. You sighed, suddenly thankful for the distance between your home and the edge of town. Any neighbours would have come knocking at your door because of the noise.

Tucking your hands underneath the boy’s arms, you lifted him into your chest, bouncing him as he cried into your shoulder. His small fingers dug into your shoulder, trying his best to hold you back as snot began to stain the loose fabric of your shirt. You let out quiet shushing noises and trailed your knuckles across his back as you tiredly carried him back to your room.

Sitting down on the soft mattress, you dug your feet underneath your blankets, still warm from your forgotten body heat. A yawn tore it’s way out of you as you pulled the blankets up to your shoulder, sure to cover Bokuto’s tiny body in the process.

“All right you big baby, time to sleep.”

He was quick to get comfortable, taking slow breathes through his nose as he sucked in all the warmth you had to offer.

“Night, Kou.”

Typically, the sound of birds chirping outside your window at the break of dawn was something you enjoyed. Waking up to the fluttery tunes they sang in the trees that surrounded your little cottage. Today though, today they were loud. Screeching like sharp whistles into your ear at the earliest hour of the morning.

Groaning, you pulled your hand out from the warm cave that your blankets created around you, shivering as soon as you felt the drastically colder air on the outside. You rubbed your eye and turned your head toward the window. A small flock sat along your window sill, including one that perched itself on your bedside lamp, chirping about something you didn’t understand.

You huffed through your nose, closing your eyes and tucking your hand back under the blanket as you turned back to your original position. Your cold nose hit something incredibly warm.

“Get back here or you’ll get cold little witch.”

Feeling a large hand followed by familiar well-built muscles that radiated extreme heat wrap around your back before thick, calloused fingers dug into the fleshy crook of your shoulder. Warm built up at the top of your head with every exhale he let out. Your own breath hit his chest, spreading throughout the tight space and making your cheeks feel even hotter. You scrunched your nose against the defined centerline between Bokuto’s pecks, desperately trying to avert your gaze despite the limited view.

Even with the protective layer of your loose sleep shirt, nothing was left to the imagination as he held you tightly against his best.

You lifted your head, nose bumping against his. Within your peripherals, you could see his naturally spiky two-toned hair bend against your pillows, his cheek squish slightly as his head sunk into the fluffy object, and his thick grey eyebrows rise in surprise at your quick movement. The rising sun, though dim, made his golden eyes glow brightly in the shadowed room. Despite not being able to see it, you could tell his mouth parted as his lips brushed against yours ever so slightly before breathing out hot air like a dragon guarding a rare treasure.

You breathed slowly, eyelids fluttering. “If you want me to stay, get rid of those birds of yours. Or I will, I could use a few feathers for some spells.”

His following chuckle sent deep vibrations down your spine. You could feel his lips pull apart along your hairline, grinning widely. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Don’t make me feed you my cat’s potion again. You were much cuter as a baby.”

Another laugh made you want to sink into your mattress and hide. You dug your face into his chest, feeling his muscles flex against your skin.

“I recall you thinking I was cute already.”

“Just shut your birds up, please. I don’t need to be embarrassed anymore.”

He complied, slowly pulling away to roll off the other side of the bed and walk around to the window where the birds continued to sing happily. The blanket fell from his waist and you covered your head with the blanket.

“Put some clothes on!”

“I don’t know where you put them!”

You cried into the blankets dramatically, self-deprecating laughs escaping you as you tried to choke on the tick sheets. Following the sound of your window shutting, a weight slowly began to press you deeper into the mattress, increasing the heat all around your body by melting into the sheets. You could feel his hands rub at your back and stomach through the blanket as his knees dug into the mattress on either side of you. His voice, sharp and ruff from sleep, cut its way through your blanket before meeting your ear on the other side and you tried no to melt on the spot.

“Come on little witch, there’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m your baby, right?”

...I may have gone just a little bit far at the ending there….. Well, uh… happy early Halloween. - Bacon

Posted: 25/10/2020

#bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto #Haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #anime x reader #anime #manga x reader #manga

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ankewehner · 3 years

Text

The Story of a Boy Who Went Forth to Learn Fear

Number 4 of Grimms’ Fairy Tales, in the 1857 edition. I think this is moderately well known in German language areas, but not very widespread. It is also really weird.

Content notes: uh, broken bones, dead bodies and disturbing treatment of them, death threats, general violence, violent animal death, cruelty against fish

----

A miller had two sons, and one of them was stupid. When his father told him he had to learn something to earn his bread, he said he wanted to learn how to shudder with fear, because that was something people kept talking about that he did not understand at all.

The miller was not happy with it, and complained to people. When the sexton of the local church heard about it, he offered to teach the boy. The sexton taught the boy how to ring the church bells, and after a while sent him up in the church tower to ring the bells at midnight. The sexton himself tried pretending he was a ghost standing in the stairwell. The boy asked that pale figure who they were and what they were doing in the church tower at night, and warned them he would throw them down the stairs if they did not answer. The sexton kept quiet, thinking this was typical ghost behaviour and the boy was not serious, which ended with the sexton thrown down the stairs and breaking a leg.

When the miller heard about that, he sent the boy away with some money, and orders to tell nobody where he was from or who his father was.

So the boy went out into the world, often saying to himself “Oh, if I could shudder!”

One day a man heard that and advised him “Look, there are seven hanged men at the gallows*. If you spend the night there, you will shudder.”

The boy promised him all his money if it worked, and lit a fire below the gallows. The night was cold, and he worried about the hanged men high in the air being even colder than he was, so he took down the bodies and set them close to the fire. Those fellows did not move, even when the rags they wore caught fire, which annoyed the boy, so he hung them up on the gallows again. Since he had not learnt fear, he did not pay the man who had suggested it.

Later in his travels, an innkeeper told the boy about a cursed castle. The king had promised his daughter’s hand in marriage to anyone who could stay there for three nights, because then the curse would be lifted and the evil spirits that guarded the castle’s treasures would disappear.

So the boy went to the king to ask permission to give it a try, and the king let him pick three not-living things he could take with him. He chose a fire, a turning-lathe, and a shaving horse with a knife.

The first night, at first two black cats with fiery eyes appeared who said they were cold. The boy invited them to warm themselves at the fire. After a while they asked if he wanted to play a game of cards, and he agreed, but he said he had to trim their claws, and trapped their paws in the shaving horse to do so. Then he beat them to death and threw them in the water.

A lot more black and unearthly cats and dogs appeared and hassled him, and tried to pull apart his fire, but he took his knife and attacked them, killing some and scaring off the rest.

Once he has stoked his fire again, he wanted to sleep, and noticed a bed in a corner. After he lay down in the bed, it started to wander through the castle, and the boy said “all right, but it could go faster”, and the bed started racing around. At the end up tumbled upside down on top of him, so he threw it aside and when back to the chamber with the fire and slept there. He still had not learnt to shudder.

In the second night, half a man fell down the chimney. The boy called “hey, we need another half!”, and another half man fell down the chimney. The boy stoked the fire, and while he did that, the man put himself together. More men fell down the chimney, and brought nine bones and two skulls, and played skittles/ninepin bowling. The boy wanted to join in, but first worked the skulls on the lathe to make them roll better. He lost some money, and the men and bones disappeared at the stroke of midnight. That was a fun night, and he still had not learnt to shudder.

In the third night, six men bore a coffin into the boy’s chamber. He opened it and recognised his recently deceased cousin. He tried to warm him, but neither warming his own hand near the fire before putting it on his dead cousin’s face, nor laying his cousin near the fire, taking his head in his lap and rubbing his arms to get the blood flowing helped. So at last he put his cousin and himself in the bed together.

The dead warmed up and started to move, and said “Now I will strangle you!”, at which point the boy put him back in the coffin and put the lid back on, and the pallbearers carried the coffin off again.

Next a huge man with along white beard came in, and said “you’ll learn fear, for you will die!” The boy claimed to be stronger than the old man, who agreed to let the boy go if he was really stronger. The man led the boy to a smithy and with an axe struck an anvil so hard the anvil sank into the ground. The boy took the axe and split another anvil, grabbed the old man’s long beard and trapped it in the crack, and started beating the man to death with an iron rod.

The man begged for mercy and offered the boy riches in exchange for his life, to which the boy agreed. The man led him to a cellar with three chests of gold, and told him “a third is for the poor, a third is for the king, and a third is for you,” before he vanished at the stroke of midnight.

So while the boy had still not learnt how to shudder in fear, he had lifted the curse and won the treasure, and married the princess.

He was still going on with his “Oh, if I could shudder!” and it annoyed his wife. Eventually her waiting-maid helped out with an idea: She got a bucket of water from the stream, with many little fishes in it. At night, when her husband was sleeping, the princess pulled back to covers and poured the ice cold water and wriggling fish over him.

He woke up and called, “Oh, I’m shuddering! Now I know what shuddering is! Thanks, dear wife.”

——

* The actual line is, close as I can get, “Look, there’s the tree where seven wed the ropemaker’s daughter and now are learning to fly.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Story_of_the_Youth_Who_Went_Forth_to_Learn_What_Fear_Was

#Grimms' Fairy Tales #Fairy Tales #Fear #my posts #Hauntings

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

Text

Sins of the Past Pt.19

Somewhere In The Forest. (After travelling through the night and getting completely lost, Richard decides to lighten Henry’s mood.) Richard: “Psst! Psst! Psst! Henry. Henry! Henry, wake up. (Tapping his chest while leaning over him:) H-Henry! Wake up! I have incredible news!” Henry: “Ugh! Is that news that you've misplaced your toothbrush?” Richard: (Laughs:) “Zinger! No. No, you know how we're lost and if we keep heading into the land of the Giants we’re liable to be trampled to death?” Henry: (Sighs:) “Yes, we discussed it last night in great detail.” Richard: “Well, I have someone here who wants to lay all your fears to rest.” Henry: (Yawns:) “All right, but it better not be that pathetic excuse for a dragon.” Richard: (Turns holding said dragon in his hands:) “Can you believe it? Imagine how our foes will run in terror! What do you think?” Henry: “I think you're a complete idiot. (Throws off his blanket, stands and begins to walk away:) You do realize that I’m further away from joining up with Ella than I was when I started?” Richard: “Well... Hey, where you going?” Henry: “To find Ella... Without you.” Richard: “What? Why?” Henry: “Because I am done. I am done cleaning up your mess. I am done telling you that it's not your fault, because... news flash, Richard... it is your fault. I'm done with your weakness, with your whining, but most of all, I am done with you!” Richard: “Okay. I admit, I'm on a bit of an unlucky streak, but I am destined for great things. You'll see.” Henry: “You have about as much chance of great things as that lizard does of breathing fire.” Richard: “It's a dragon, and it can breathe fire. Show him, Tad Cooper! (Lifts him up:) Show him. Come on. Well clearly you make him nervous.” Henry: “The perfect pair... A dragon that isn't a dragon... And a king that isn't a king.” (Henry walks away.) Richard: “Well, I am done with you, too!”

Storybrooke. Town Line. (While Emma and Regina put up a protection spell at the town line, David concludes his phone call.) David: "That was Kristoff. He, Anna and Elsa are just leaving with a small delegation for Camelot." Mulan: "I understand how Elsa is feeling, but walking into Camelot without a plan is madness."

Ruby: "Elsa has a lot of experience with not showing her feelings. Her plan is to enter Camelot gracefully in order to get Lily and Maleficent out, gracefully." Regina: "That will never work. Are we forgetting about when Elsa first came to Storybrooke? She ended up freezing half the town because she couldn't keep her emotions in check. The sight of Lily being held behind bars is likely to cause Elsa to spiral out of control and send Camelot into a new ice age." Emma: (Considers:) "That might help Morgana and Morgause cool off for awhile." Regina: (Chuckles:) "That was terrible." Emma: (Smiles:) "I know." David: (Agitated:) "You know what, I don't think you realise the gravity of the situation here.” Snow White: “David...” David: “The Queen of Camelot has put a bounty on my daughter's head. Not only that, but it appears that she's kidnapped Maleficent and Lily in an attempt to persuade Emma to turn herself in. So you’ll excuse me if I don't happen to think that this is a laughing matter." Regina: "And you think I do? You think I enjoy the fact my wife is being hunted? Or that there's some rogue knight with magical powers out there waiting to strike and I have no way of finding him? It's been tearing me up since I first heard about the bounty in Neverland. So don't you dare lecture me on how I should feel when you're the one who let Mordred go on two separate occasions!" Emma: "All right, look, the protection spell is up so that means no one is coming in or out of Storybrooke. If we want to catch this Mordred guy, we're going to have to work together. Now I know Hook and Rumple are out looking east and Ruby and Mulan have volunteered to start searching west, which leaves the town and suburban areas. So I say we all head back to town and try to live our lives as best we can for now." Regina: "Agreed." (They break up. Mulan and Ruby heading to the woods while Emma and Regina walk back to Emma's bug. Now alone, Snow pulls David aside to talk.) Snow White: "David, you have got to calm down. You can't go having shouting matches with Regina every five minutes." David: (Sighs:) "I know, but I just feel like this time things might not turn out the way we hope. No matter what she says, Morgana is out for blood. If she has any chance of winning over her people, she has to look strong. And I'm terrified of what that'll mean for Emma." Snow White: "We won't let that happen." David: (Nods:) “I know we’ll try, and I will fight with my very last breath to prevent anything from happening to my daughter. But I gotta wonder how many more chances we have left until our luck runs out."

Wonderland. (Ella and Lizard walk together down the winding road.) Ella: "You're not helping me find Will for repayment of a financial debt, are you?” Lizard: (Stops walking and removes her hat. Shrugging:) “I was on the streets. He took me in, gave me a place to sleep. Taught me everything I know.” Ella: “Well, sorry to hear that.” Lizard: (Laughs:) “Come on, I know he can be difficult, but his heart's in the right place.” Ella: “Sounds like you two were close friends. Unless wait, were you two...” Lizard: “No. Uh, no. I mean... that would never... Will and I we just ran together. You know, stealing. Sometimes for the Caterpillar, and sometimes just for fun.” Ella: “You'd rob people for fun?” Lizard: “Will kind of went through a dark period after the whole Alice in the tower thing. So how do you know Will?” Ella: “Oh, he’s helping me find my mother.” Lizard: “Your mother?” Ella: “Yes, she fled to Wonderland a long time ago. Given his experiences here I thought Will would be the perfect guide but, well, we’ve had some interesting diversions along the way.” Lizard: “Speaking of diversions, we might not know where Will is right now, but if you’re interested, I might know someone who could help you find your mom?” Ella: “Who?” Lizard: “Well, she’s sort of an Oracle. She uses these crystals and... (At Ella’s sceptical look:) yeah I know, but it could be worth a shot?” Ella: (Considers:) “How far from here is this Oracle, because Will did say we’d meet back up at Tulgey Woods?” Lizard: “Oh, well that’s perfect, it’s right on the way. So, what do you say?” Ella: “All right, you’re on.” Storybrooke. Zelena's Farmhouse. (While Zelena dotes on Maria, Regina and Emma smile at each other.) Emma: "Thanks for looking after her, Zelena. We kinda needed our hands free while putting the protection spell around the entire town." Zelena: (Replying to Emma, but speaking to Maria:) "Oh we didn't mind at all now, did we? No, we didn't." (Emma and Regina exchange looks, Emma motions towards the baby and Regina shakes her head.) Emma: (Sighs, awkwardly:) "So, um, thanks again and we'll just take her and be out of your hair." Zelena: (Finally looking up:) "Oh, so soon? It seems I hardly get to see my niece much anymore." Regina: "Well we just figured with you helping Robin out at the bar and any alone time you wish to spend with Robin Hood..." Emma: "We didn't want to impose." Zelena: "It's no trouble at all. I can take her all day if you'd like?" Emma: "Well..." Zelena: "It's just so hard sometimes, thinking about all those years I missed out on with Robin. Between Gothel's aging spell and... that unfortunate incident with some enchanted onion rings... I feel as though my time spent with Maria gives me at least a glimpse at what those precious years of motherhood could have been like." (Running her tongue across her lips to stifle a smile, Regina looks up at Emma, who realises she's being played.) Emma: "I... if you think it wouldn't be too much trouble..." Zelena: (Her attention already focused on Maria:) "I'll have her back before dark." (Under the distinct impression that they've just been dismissed, Emma and Regina make their farewells and leave the farmhouse.) Sheriff's Station. (Sitting with his feet up on one of the desks, Rumplestiltskin watches as Hook paces angrily up and down.) Rumplestiltskin: "You'll wear a hole in the floor, you know." Hook: "That's the problem! I don't know anything. I don't know if my wife and daughter are alive or dead!" Rumplestiltskin: "I understand how you're feeling. When the Jabberwocky took Belle and Gideon from me, it was all I could do not to lose my mind. But we must be patient." Hook: "Patience is not something I'm used to. Action has always been my answer." Rumplestiltskin: "Well it can't be now. At least not yet. Despite the fact that we would be crushed if we attempted to go up against Camelot's army, we don't know what capabilities Morgana and Morgause have."

Hook: "Emma and Regina can tackle any magical force that comes their way." Rumplestiltskin: "Not necessarily. Don't get me wrong, their combined magic is stronger than any I've encountered. It is far more powerful than even the Darkness could've hoped to be. But these two women, they have honed their magical craft under the Old Religion." Hook: "So?" Rumplestiltskin: "There is a reason I stayed away from Camelot all those years. The Old Religion encapsulates the entire history of magic, light and dark. It goes back even further than Merlin's time. Without truly knowing what we'd be up against, I'm afraid caution is the only correct course of action we have available to us right now." Walking Through The Forest. (Still angry about his fight with Henry, Richard trudges through the forest talking to his pet dragon.) Richard: "You can't do anything right, Richard. Everything's a disaster, Richard. You've ruined my life, Richard. That's not a real dragon, Richard. Well, you know what? Henry may not believe in you, but I do. I super believe in you, Tad Cooper. ♪ Hey, little fella, I know just what you're thinkin' ♪ ♪ Nobody gets you or sees what you could be ♪ (He walks through a field to the bewilderment of several sheep:) ♪ But pluck up your courage and turn that frown up ♪ ♪ Soon we will eat this entire town up ♪ ♪ Then they'll believe in my dragon pal and me ♪ (Richard and Tad Cooper now sitting upon a tree swing:) ♪ That's right, little fella ♪ ♪ We'll leave those doubters blinkin' ♪ ♪ We're gonna show 'em a thing or two or three ♪ (Richard now spinning in circles as he sings:) ♪ Imagine the wonder that we'll inspire ♪ ♪ When we are setting their heads on fire ♪ ♪ Then we'll be even, my dragon pal and me ♪ (Crossing a bridge, letting the dragon feel the wind blow through its... scales:) ♪ We'll rise up ♪ ♪ And open their eyes up ♪ ♪ We'll light the skies up ♪ (Back on the tree swing:) ♪ And rain destruction and death on their wives and kids ♪ (Mimicking an attack on a village:) Raar! Raar! Aah! ♪ So, when, little fella, you feel your heart is sinkin' ♪ ♪ Just you remember, one day, we'll make them see ♪ ♪ And when they are watching, completely flipped out ♪ ♪ As their intestines are being ripped out ♪ ♪ They'll all look up to us, then I guarantee ♪ (More spinning in a field:) ♪ Then they'll believe in my dragon pal and me ♪ ♪ Doo-doo, doo-doo, doo doo doo doo ♪ ♪ Then they'll believe in me ♪ ♪ They'll believe in...Me ♪ (Richard collapses contentedly onto the ground, Tad Cooper clutched against his chest, when a group of men surround him with clubs:) I must warn you... I have a dragon.”

Storybrooke. Goldilocks' Gym. (Rather than sit and do nothing, Regina and Emma decide to work up a sweat at the local gymnasium. Having sparred with Gabrielle and outrun Tinker Bell on the treadmill, Emma searches for her wife. Wandering to the back of the gym where the private rooms are located, Emma glances through each window before finally finding Regina. Entering the room, she finds the brunette doing stretches while wearing a blue leotard.) Regina: (Smiling over her shoulder:) "Good workout, dear?" Emma: (Taking a seat on the floor, wincing:) "I'm definitely gonna feel it tomorrow. (Watches as Regina continues stretching:) So this is what you've been doing, warming up?" Regina: (Chuckles:) "There's slightly more to it than that. I haven't done these kind of stretches in years." Emma: (Leaning back on her hands:) "Well don't let me stop you, I'm loving the view." (Wordlessly, Regina turns to her and, placing her hands beneath her chin in an innocent pose, begins to sink to the floor. When her elbows finally touch the ground, Regina enjoys the expression on Emma's face.) Regina: "I can't tell what's wider, your eyes or my legs." Xena: (Standing in the doorway:) "That's not so hard." Regina: (Lifting her eyebrow:) "Oh really? (Swings her leg beneath her and somehow manages to spin around into a standing position:) Care to try it?" Gabrielle: (Arriving, towel in hand:) "Xena, don't you dare." Xena: (Confidently:) "I've got this, Gabrielle." Gabrielle: "No, Xena. Don't-" (But before anyone can stop her, Xena lets out a yell, flips in midair into a somersault and lands, split legged on the floor. Emma places her hands over her ears at the thudding sound, Gabrielle covers her eyes, unable to watch and Regina covers her mouth, to stifle her snigger of laughter. With her eyes now wider than Emma's were a moment ago, Xena remains in her prone position, incapable of movement, mouth agape. After a brief moment of uncertainty, the three spectators converge upon Xena, each helping the famed warrior princess up from the floor.) Forest. (While looking at a map, Henry walks through the forest and trips over something, landing in the dirt.) Andre: (His voice echoing through the woods:) “Who goes there?” Henry: (Staring up at the men stood at the top of a steep hill:) “Oh, goodness. Giants.” Andre: “State your business, wee man.” Henry: “I'm Henry. I’m completely lost and need to find my fiancee. (They stare down at him, unmoved by his plight:) You know, I'm told your people are among the fiercest warriors in the land.” Andre: “Among? We are Giants, with fists the size of pumpkins.” Henry: “Pumpkins, good.” Andre: “And heads so big, they blot out the sun.” Henry: “Perfect.” Andre: “We love a good war. Don't we, fellas?” Other Giants: “Yeah!” Andre: “Hush! Titan, Colossus, pull him out of there!” (A giant reaches down and offers his hand, pulling Henry out of the mud.)

Henry: “This is great. Thank you so much. Hi. Henry. I'm... Hello. (He looks around, now towering over the giants:) I'm so sorry. Aren't you supposed to be...Taller? I mean, not to be rude, but you did say that your heads blocked out the sun.” Andre: “Yes, they do block out the sun. You've got to catch it at the right angle. Sorry. Can I, uh, just... Here? Uh...There. Complete darkness.” Henry: “Mm. Are you sure that you're giants?” Andre: “Of course we are giants. Just very short giants is all.” Titan: “Fee fie fo fum.” Andre: “Yeah. Well said, Titan. We will join you on your quest... On one condition.” Henry: “I’m quite certain I didn’t ask, but yeah. Go on.” Andre: “You must prove your loyalty by helping us fight our most hated enemy... The Dwarves!” Giants: “Yeah!” Titan: “Stinkin', tiny, awful, high-pitched-voiced Dwarves.” Andre: “Right again, Titan. Tonight, we meet to set the rules of battle, and tomorrow, we fight. So, what do you say? It shouldn't take long. They're only very small. (The giants laugh:) Stop laughing!” Henry: (Takes a breath:) “Yeah. Why not? I'm desperate. Let's do this.” (The giants all cheer.) Camelot. Dining Room. (After a formal greeting between the two Queens, witnessed by courtiers and common people alike, Morgana and Elsa share dinner together alone.) Morgana: "I can't tell you how much it means to me to have Arendelle's support in this troublesome time." Elsa: "Of course. Camelot is a treasured ally." Morgana: "Even so, I realise Guinevere's abdication must have come as a shock?" Elsa: "From my conversations with her, I never had the impression that Guinevere truly embraced her position as queen. She, much like myself, was thrust into the role after the tragic death of a loved one. For me, my parents, for Guinevere, her husband. Your brother." Morgana: "Indeed, but you seem well suited to the role now." Elsa: (Smiles:) "I have my moments." Morgana: "Don't we all. Thank you, by the way. For referring to my brother's death as tragic. Others I've spoken to remember him as a cold and callous ruler." Elsa: "I couldn't comment, we never met." Morgana: "Others say his death was justified, and that Emma Swan was acting in self defense." Elsa: "Again, I couldn't possibly-" Morgana: "You are friends with Emma, are you not?" Elsa: "Yes, I-" Morgana: "Close friends, would you say?" Elsa: "For a time, we were very close, yes." Morgana: "Was that before or after she became the Dark One and killed my brother?" Elsa: "I don't know what you're trying to imply but-" Morgana: "I'm merely asking if you are still friends with the woman who killed this nation's King and refuses to stand trial for that crime under Camelot law." Elsa: "From what I understand, your majesty, Arthur not only threatened Emma directly, but also her family. (Sitting a little higher in her seat:) And frankly, if you want my honest opinion, yes, your brother did deserve exactly what he got. If it had been me, I might've done the exact same thing." Morgana: (Smiles:) "There now. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Elsa: "Excuse me?" Morgana: (Chuckles:) "The one thing I remember vividly from my time in Uther's court is having keep up the pretense of propriety. It was always exhausting and I hated it. We are alone, Elsa. You don’t have to worry about airs and graces with me. I've hated my so-called brother for years for what he did to me. Of course I do not mourn his loss, but you must understand, for me to be truly cemented as Queen in the eyes of the people, his death must be avenged. Now, please tell me why you are really here?" Elsa: (Taken aback by Morgana's mercurial nature:) "I..." Morgana: "Oh come now, I know you didn't just come here to welcome Camelot's queen." Elsa: (Conjures Lily's sweater into her hand:) "My lover is missing. I used a locator spell to find her and the trail brought me to Camelot." Morgana: (Sitting back in her chair, fingers pressed together:) "I see." Elsa: "I have reason to believe that Lily and her mother Maleficent may be imprisoned here in the castle." Morgana: "Maleficent? Her powers are legendary. And you believe me capable of capturing both her and her daughter and locking them away in my dungeons?" Elsa: "Well...I..." Morgana: (Leaning forward:) "I'm not sure if you're aware, but we've had a mass breakout from our dungeons just very recently. Of those who escaped, none of them possessed any trace of magical ability. (Chuckles:) I'm sorry, but to think that I would be brazen enough to house you, your sister and brother-in-law whilst keeping your lover and the mighty Maleficent locked away in my dungeons is ludicrous." Elsa: "So you deny it?" Morgana: (Still smiling:) "Wholeheartedly. In fact, why don't I accompany you to the dungeons so you may see for yourself? (She stands, tossing down her napkin:) Come, I could do with a walk before tackling dessert."

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Night. (With Maria tucked up in bed, Regina sits at the piano. Practicing a few chords, Regina doesn't see Emma as she enters the room. Smiling when Emma rubs her shoulders, Regina leans back against her.) Regina: "Ready to play?" Emma: "You have no idea." (Walking to stand beside the piano, Emma's nakedness is revealed for the first time. The moonlight pouring in through the windows highlighting every breathtaking curve of her body.) Regina: "So you weren't serious about letting me teach you then?" Emma: (Smiles, perching herself against the piano:) "Oh, I thought we might teach each other. You know it's always more fun when we both learn a thing or two." (Slowly rising from her seat, Regina seizes Emma's lips with her own. The keys of the piano playing a cacophony of notes as Emma's body is pressed up against them.) Regina: (Smiling against Emma's lips:) "I think you'll be glad to know, I've already warmed up my fingers." Wonderland. (Lizard and Ella stand at the entrance to the Oracle's garden. The Oracle herself can be seen a short distance away, her back to them.) Lizard: "Are you sure you want to do this?” Ella: “If you were granted the same opportunity, would you not want to meet your mother again?” (Walking further into the garden, Ella nervously approaches the Oracle while Lizard stays behind, watching.) Oracle: “Welcome, Ella.” Ella: “That’s... (Glances back at Lizard then stares at the Oracle:) How did you know my name?” (The Oracle turns to face her, revealing herself to be...) Morgause: “I’ve been waiting for you. I hold the answer to the question that burns inside you. I know what happened to your mother, Ella.”

#Sq #swan queen #swanqueen

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